Interview of Ustad Vilayat Khan (www.indiatoday.in)
Disclaimer: Original article published here:
https://www.indiatoday.in/magazine/interview/story/19771215-my-father-excelled-in-simplicity-i-excel-in-complicated-music-ustad-vilayat-khan-823924-2014-09-19
This is posted here only for archival purpose.
Many people across the globe refer this blog site for their research work on Sitar and Etawah Gharana.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Even his worst critics concede Ustad Vilayat H. Khan, 50, a place among India's two sitar players (along with Nikhil Banerjee). Like his father Inayat Khan, who was much criticized, but also much imitated, and who was a hit with his audiences, Vilayat Khan has been a controversial trend-setter. His most significant contribution to Indian music is the gayaki ang, in which the style of vocalists is reproduced on the sitar. This is achieved by deflecting strings sideways. Today the Ustad lives, away from musical politics, in Clement Town a quiet suburb in the Doon Valley.
Q. Your ancestors have all lived in Calcutta. You yourself have houses in Bombay (on the smart Napean Sea Road) and Calcutta (in the euqully smart Park Circus area) where the music industry is. Why do you spend most of your time as a semi-recluse in this place?
A. I agree Bombay or Calcutta would have been better professionally. Around 1961-62 I started experiencing considerable depressions. I got fed up with the social life of Bombay. Having been near the sea, all my life-both in Bombay and in Calcutta - I would escape to the hills each summer with my children. In 1965 I decided to settle down 14 miles off Simla. That was an inconvenient 20-hour drive from Delhi, and was impractical for a professional artiste. So around 1971 I chose this place as a via media: a place where I have a lot of peace, but which is only a four hour drive to Delhi.
Q. Doesn't living here mean a financial loss?
A. I earn less than others because I give fewer performances. But the 20-24 performances I give each year are sufficient for my simple living. (The Ustad maintains a Mercedes Benz and a fairly decent suburban house.) I have no unnecessary expenses, don't throw many parties; but I live with my children, my cattle, my poultry and my garden. I don't know how much the others charge for a concert, but people say that I charge the highest among Indian artistes: Rs 1,250 to Rs 1,500 per concert: both here and abroad. Royalities from my records are sizeable but not sufficient in themselves.
Q. You mention that you were very depressed in the early '60s. Was it because of your music?
A. A very unfortunate development these days is that the sportsman spirit of the old days has disappeared. A lot of politics have cropped up: backbiting, people favouring their own school etc. Critics, too, tend to be partisan. If a junior artiste is a favourite of an organization, the organization will arrange press conferences where the junior artiste will abuse other senior artistes. A lot of money will be spent on the press. The junior artiste will be made to perform after his seniors (in a concert): which is an insult to the senior artiste, and will spoil the junior artiste. The day will soon come when dogs, cats and horses will retain their pedigree - but not human beings. This is not good for the future classical music. Soon we might have to learn our shastriya sangeet from others like today we learn our Shakuntala in German.
Q. Your father Inayat Khan followed the simpler modes of his family style. Your gat (a fixed composition) style has a number of sub-themes to it, and is very complicated. You have been accused of abandoning the simplicity of the Imdadkhan gharand's traditions and of wandering off on "devious paths" in your recitals.
A. Every artiste has his own personality. The difference between my father and me is the same as between Rajab Ali Khan and Alladiya Khan, who were both very complicated, on one hand, and Abdul Karim Khan who was so simple, on the other. Each has been a pillar in his own right. It is not necessary that I follow my father, just as my son Sujat can be more or less complicated than I. My father excelled in simplicity, I excel in complicated music. You can't discard either. The right hand is my fastness, the left hand makes the music complicated. The right hand gives the strokes, the left the intricacies and flowery craftsmanship.
Q. You have been known as India's fastest sitar player. Isn't that commercialization?
A. Not necessarily. Some characters have to be presented fast to bring out their intricacies. I play fast only when necessary. Now I mostly play jod, alaap and madhyalaya - my fast work is mostly done by my son Sujat. It is very exerting. For six generations, by the grace of God, my ancestors have been topmost in their field. This eminence is impossible to bequeath. My father died when I was 10. So I had to struggle a lot: to develop this speed and to maintain it. Had I not brought something new to the sitar people would not have accepted me in the same (pre-eminent) position (as my ancestors). I was nine when I first appeared on the stage in 1936. Those who have been hearing about me for 40 years now, assume that anyone who has been performing for 40 years must be 70 at least. I have been so tense, have had to struggle so much, that sometimes I feel I am 70.
Q. Was this 'something new' which you brought to the sitar the gavaki ang?
A. Yes.
Q. Did you chance on it? Or did you strive consciously to develop it?
A. I am very fortunate in that we are instrumentalists from my father's side and vocalists from my mother's side. By the time my father died he had given me 5-6 years of basic knowledge, the foundation: techniques of left and right hands, riyaz, bol, taan. Immediately after his death on one hand my father's brother (Waheed Khan) and on the other my mother's father (Bande Hussain Khan) both caught me in their clutches. Each morning for five years my uncle would teach me the sitar and sur bahar for three hours (even though Vilayat Khan mainly plays the sitar these days, his Clement Town house is called the Sur Bahar, and in the evenings for another three hours my grandfather would sing while I would play the sitar. Around 1942-43 when people like Mustaq Hussain Khan, the vocalist, Pandit Onkaraath Thakur, Ustad Faiyyaz Khan and Rajab Ali Khan heard me at conferences, they started saying: "This boy is doing something new in the 800 year history of the sitar - he is playing the gayaki ang, the khayak ang, on the sitar: "At that time even I did not know what I had discovered. After that this style got so popular that most instrumentalists today fall back on gayaki ang.
Q. While artistes like Ravi Shankar spend very little time on the alaap, for you the alaap (prelude) assumes a lot of importance.
A. The greater the time I spend on the alaap the better I can show the true nature, the true roop, of the raga. One doesn't get a chance to do this to the same extent in a fast gat. I am the first artiste to start this trend in records: side one is devoted exclusively to the alaap, while side two only has the gat. Even 21-24 minutes are too little to do justice to the alaap. This shows what a purist I am.
Q. How do Western audiences react to your performances?
A. I was the first artiste to go abroad after independence. Till 1965 it was very difficult to make Western audiences understand our music. Since then - because of constant exposure to our music - they've begun to appreciate Indian music so much: their critics are so knowledgeable and impartial so that for me it's a treat to perform abroad. Most of the time in India no matter how well you play people like to add their 'but': "He's good, but. ..."
Q. What about East-West fusions like East meets West and the Sitar Concerto?
A. I would not like to follow this (sort of a trend). On one hand you say people call me a neo-romantic, when I have never tried any of these (fusions). I would not like (either foreign music) to lose its true character by mixing the two up.
Q. There's a clearly discernible mischief in your music. Is it intentionally injected?
A. Yes. It is intentional. I try this when I go so deep into my subject that I begin to feel that my music is getting too heavy for the listener. So before closing that subject and beginning a new one, I inject a bit of humour.
https://www.indiatoday.in/magazine/interview/story/19771215-my-father-excelled-in-simplicity-i-excel-in-complicated-music-ustad-vilayat-khan-823924-2014-09-19
This is posted here only for archival purpose.
Many people across the globe refer this blog site for their research work on Sitar and Etawah Gharana.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q. Your ancestors have all lived in Calcutta. You yourself have houses in Bombay (on the smart Napean Sea Road) and Calcutta (in the euqully smart Park Circus area) where the music industry is. Why do you spend most of your time as a semi-recluse in this place?
A. I agree Bombay or Calcutta would have been better professionally. Around 1961-62 I started experiencing considerable depressions. I got fed up with the social life of Bombay. Having been near the sea, all my life-both in Bombay and in Calcutta - I would escape to the hills each summer with my children. In 1965 I decided to settle down 14 miles off Simla. That was an inconvenient 20-hour drive from Delhi, and was impractical for a professional artiste. So around 1971 I chose this place as a via media: a place where I have a lot of peace, but which is only a four hour drive to Delhi.
Q. Doesn't living here mean a financial loss?
A. I earn less than others because I give fewer performances. But the 20-24 performances I give each year are sufficient for my simple living. (The Ustad maintains a Mercedes Benz and a fairly decent suburban house.) I have no unnecessary expenses, don't throw many parties; but I live with my children, my cattle, my poultry and my garden. I don't know how much the others charge for a concert, but people say that I charge the highest among Indian artistes: Rs 1,250 to Rs 1,500 per concert: both here and abroad. Royalities from my records are sizeable but not sufficient in themselves.
Q. You mention that you were very depressed in the early '60s. Was it because of your music?
A. A very unfortunate development these days is that the sportsman spirit of the old days has disappeared. A lot of politics have cropped up: backbiting, people favouring their own school etc. Critics, too, tend to be partisan. If a junior artiste is a favourite of an organization, the organization will arrange press conferences where the junior artiste will abuse other senior artistes. A lot of money will be spent on the press. The junior artiste will be made to perform after his seniors (in a concert): which is an insult to the senior artiste, and will spoil the junior artiste. The day will soon come when dogs, cats and horses will retain their pedigree - but not human beings. This is not good for the future classical music. Soon we might have to learn our shastriya sangeet from others like today we learn our Shakuntala in German.
Q. Your father Inayat Khan followed the simpler modes of his family style. Your gat (a fixed composition) style has a number of sub-themes to it, and is very complicated. You have been accused of abandoning the simplicity of the Imdadkhan gharand's traditions and of wandering off on "devious paths" in your recitals.
A. Every artiste has his own personality. The difference between my father and me is the same as between Rajab Ali Khan and Alladiya Khan, who were both very complicated, on one hand, and Abdul Karim Khan who was so simple, on the other. Each has been a pillar in his own right. It is not necessary that I follow my father, just as my son Sujat can be more or less complicated than I. My father excelled in simplicity, I excel in complicated music. You can't discard either. The right hand is my fastness, the left hand makes the music complicated. The right hand gives the strokes, the left the intricacies and flowery craftsmanship.
Q. You have been known as India's fastest sitar player. Isn't that commercialization?
A. Not necessarily. Some characters have to be presented fast to bring out their intricacies. I play fast only when necessary. Now I mostly play jod, alaap and madhyalaya - my fast work is mostly done by my son Sujat. It is very exerting. For six generations, by the grace of God, my ancestors have been topmost in their field. This eminence is impossible to bequeath. My father died when I was 10. So I had to struggle a lot: to develop this speed and to maintain it. Had I not brought something new to the sitar people would not have accepted me in the same (pre-eminent) position (as my ancestors). I was nine when I first appeared on the stage in 1936. Those who have been hearing about me for 40 years now, assume that anyone who has been performing for 40 years must be 70 at least. I have been so tense, have had to struggle so much, that sometimes I feel I am 70.
Q. Was this 'something new' which you brought to the sitar the gavaki ang?
A. Yes.
Q. Did you chance on it? Or did you strive consciously to develop it?
A. I am very fortunate in that we are instrumentalists from my father's side and vocalists from my mother's side. By the time my father died he had given me 5-6 years of basic knowledge, the foundation: techniques of left and right hands, riyaz, bol, taan. Immediately after his death on one hand my father's brother (Waheed Khan) and on the other my mother's father (Bande Hussain Khan) both caught me in their clutches. Each morning for five years my uncle would teach me the sitar and sur bahar for three hours (even though Vilayat Khan mainly plays the sitar these days, his Clement Town house is called the Sur Bahar, and in the evenings for another three hours my grandfather would sing while I would play the sitar. Around 1942-43 when people like Mustaq Hussain Khan, the vocalist, Pandit Onkaraath Thakur, Ustad Faiyyaz Khan and Rajab Ali Khan heard me at conferences, they started saying: "This boy is doing something new in the 800 year history of the sitar - he is playing the gayaki ang, the khayak ang, on the sitar: "At that time even I did not know what I had discovered. After that this style got so popular that most instrumentalists today fall back on gayaki ang.
Q. While artistes like Ravi Shankar spend very little time on the alaap, for you the alaap (prelude) assumes a lot of importance.
A. The greater the time I spend on the alaap the better I can show the true nature, the true roop, of the raga. One doesn't get a chance to do this to the same extent in a fast gat. I am the first artiste to start this trend in records: side one is devoted exclusively to the alaap, while side two only has the gat. Even 21-24 minutes are too little to do justice to the alaap. This shows what a purist I am.
Q. How do Western audiences react to your performances?
A. I was the first artiste to go abroad after independence. Till 1965 it was very difficult to make Western audiences understand our music. Since then - because of constant exposure to our music - they've begun to appreciate Indian music so much: their critics are so knowledgeable and impartial so that for me it's a treat to perform abroad. Most of the time in India no matter how well you play people like to add their 'but': "He's good, but. ..."
Q. What about East-West fusions like East meets West and the Sitar Concerto?
A. I would not like to follow this (sort of a trend). On one hand you say people call me a neo-romantic, when I have never tried any of these (fusions). I would not like (either foreign music) to lose its true character by mixing the two up.
Q. There's a clearly discernible mischief in your music. Is it intentionally injected?
A. Yes. It is intentional. I try this when I go so deep into my subject that I begin to feel that my music is getting too heavy for the listener. So before closing that subject and beginning a new one, I inject a bit of humour.
Comments