Though it may be hard to believe there was a time when the brash, in-your-face, devil may care song-and-dance sequence of Indian mainstream cinema was anathema to Western music and film fans. The prance around the rose bushes and the lustful struggle over a sari’s pallu by strait-laced heroes and heroines made audiences cringe or giggle disdainfully.
But then something happened.
It seems those days of yore, when the average Joe Blow in Memphis knew not the term Bollywood and didn’t care a whit, are as mythical as the tales of the Ramayana. Now it is almost standard for Midwestern weddings to include “Bollywood dances”, while Podunk towns across North America and Central Europe celebrate local festivals with be-saried women all blinged up with hips a-swaying to some Hindi film song. Like saag paneer and tandoori chicken, Bollywood has gone mainstream in the West.
The shift from nose-holding to bear hug embrace didn’t take place overnight, though it often seems so. Let’s take a quick look at some of the key tectonic moments when the world of Indian music and dance intersected with Western popular culture.
Awara Hoon
From Awara, 1951
Hindi cinema’s first global hit, Awara Hoon, the Mukesh-Raj Kapoor ode resonated with millions of people from Moscow to Mombasa. While it had less of an impact with teenyboppers in the US at the time of its release, it has over the decades become a truly global heritage. Its catchy tune worked a special magic, in that people hummed and whistled the song without knowing it was from India. We have to credit this little piece of musical genius with softening the target of the western mind for more demanding and confronting offerings.
Cobra Dance
From The Indian Tomb, 1959
Fritz Lang, the man behind some of the greatest early motion pictures, such as Metropolis, was persuaded to remake the 1921 picture The Indian Tomb, which he had written but not directed. The film, along with its companion piece, The Tiger of Eshnapur, known as Lang’s Indian Epic, were not successful and for many years were unavailable to new audiences. In this wonderful clip, Debra Paget, plays a voluptuous devadasi named Sita who does an erotic cobra dance in front of perving and disapproving Brahmins. In a weird way this German imagining of India foreshadows the buxom moves of Zeenat Aman or Rekha in the ’70s and ’80s. With these sorts of moves the cultural walls of Western audiences were under subliminal attack.
Prema Rudaayade
Vijaya Anand/David Byrne, 1992
During the 1960s and ’70s Indian and Western musicians met mainly around a sitar that was (with greater or less success) retrofitted onto a jazz combo or an orchestra. Film music from Bombay was completely off the radar for American and European audiences. But in 1992 David Byrne of Talking Heads fame, released an album of music, Dance Raja Dance, lifted from the studios of Tamil cinema and the pen of Vijaya Anand. The release of this album in Byrne’s own Luaka Bop label, was a watershed moment. A Laxman rekha of sorts had been crossed. Now music critics, cognoscenti and record foragers suddenly had a reason to prick up their ears and listen. Byrne was a Voice of Authority. His endorsement of the crazy mashup of frenetic sampling, ethnic vocalising and bewildering array of instruments by Anand opened the flood gates and made it cool to like Indian cinema music. Since Dance Raja Dance, western music lovers have been tsunamied with innumerable collections of what is now known as Bollywood Funk.
Brimful of Asha
Cornershop, 1997
This hit needs no introduction or explanation. It is a brilliant piece of pop art and played a huge role in propelling Asha Bhosle onto a world stage. Asha, a great musical adventurer from the very beginning of her career had released avant garde pop collaborations as early as the 1980s but Cornershop’s paean to her genius, marked the beginning of her mainstream acceptance. In the next few years her voice was hailed by critics as angelic, she recorded with jazz and pop groups and dare I say, very nearly became a household name (if only in the houses of music lovers)!
Jaan Pehechan Ho
Mohammad Rafi/Shankar-Jaikishan, revived in 2001
David Byrne’s album may have given the ok to a small group of Americans to like Indian film music but ten years later when the film Ghost World opened with Jaan Pehechaan Ho, regular Joes and popcorn snarfers all over the world were blown away. The song with its camp masked men, shaking Laxmi Chhaya and sparkling rock and roll music hit the zeitgeist like the Howrah Mail tearing up the Bihar countryside on a cloudless night. It later appeared in a ad for Heineken beer. All resistance was gone after this.
Jai Ho
AR Rahman in Slumdog Millionaire, 2008
Again, no introduction needed for this final song, featured here in the version remixed by the Pussycat Dolls. I thought the movie was ok and at first didn’t like the song all that much. But one day while shopping for shirts in a desert mall in Arizona, Jai Ho was playing over the store speakers and the young shop assistant mouthed every word. She loved it! And the conquest of the West was complete. By the way, for all of you who still pooh-pooh this piece, please grow up! Like so much of Rahman’s music it is a glittering, intricate, magical and simply gorgeous. Layers upon layers of luscious sounds. A perfect way to end a film and an article.
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But then something happened.
It seems those days of yore, when the average Joe Blow in Memphis knew not the term Bollywood and didn’t care a whit, are as mythical as the tales of the Ramayana. Now it is almost standard for Midwestern weddings to include “Bollywood dances”, while Podunk towns across North America and Central Europe celebrate local festivals with be-saried women all blinged up with hips a-swaying to some Hindi film song. Like saag paneer and tandoori chicken, Bollywood has gone mainstream in the West.
The shift from nose-holding to bear hug embrace didn’t take place overnight, though it often seems so. Let’s take a quick look at some of the key tectonic moments when the world of Indian music and dance intersected with Western popular culture.
Awara Hoon
From Awara, 1951
Hindi cinema’s first global hit, Awara Hoon, the Mukesh-Raj Kapoor ode resonated with millions of people from Moscow to Mombasa. While it had less of an impact with teenyboppers in the US at the time of its release, it has over the decades become a truly global heritage. Its catchy tune worked a special magic, in that people hummed and whistled the song without knowing it was from India. We have to credit this little piece of musical genius with softening the target of the western mind for more demanding and confronting offerings.
Cobra Dance
From The Indian Tomb, 1959
Fritz Lang, the man behind some of the greatest early motion pictures, such as Metropolis, was persuaded to remake the 1921 picture The Indian Tomb, which he had written but not directed. The film, along with its companion piece, The Tiger of Eshnapur, known as Lang’s Indian Epic, were not successful and for many years were unavailable to new audiences. In this wonderful clip, Debra Paget, plays a voluptuous devadasi named Sita who does an erotic cobra dance in front of perving and disapproving Brahmins. In a weird way this German imagining of India foreshadows the buxom moves of Zeenat Aman or Rekha in the ’70s and ’80s. With these sorts of moves the cultural walls of Western audiences were under subliminal attack.
Prema Rudaayade
Vijaya Anand/David Byrne, 1992
During the 1960s and ’70s Indian and Western musicians met mainly around a sitar that was (with greater or less success) retrofitted onto a jazz combo or an orchestra. Film music from Bombay was completely off the radar for American and European audiences. But in 1992 David Byrne of Talking Heads fame, released an album of music, Dance Raja Dance, lifted from the studios of Tamil cinema and the pen of Vijaya Anand. The release of this album in Byrne’s own Luaka Bop label, was a watershed moment. A Laxman rekha of sorts had been crossed. Now music critics, cognoscenti and record foragers suddenly had a reason to prick up their ears and listen. Byrne was a Voice of Authority. His endorsement of the crazy mashup of frenetic sampling, ethnic vocalising and bewildering array of instruments by Anand opened the flood gates and made it cool to like Indian cinema music. Since Dance Raja Dance, western music lovers have been tsunamied with innumerable collections of what is now known as Bollywood Funk.
Brimful of Asha
Cornershop, 1997
This hit needs no introduction or explanation. It is a brilliant piece of pop art and played a huge role in propelling Asha Bhosle onto a world stage. Asha, a great musical adventurer from the very beginning of her career had released avant garde pop collaborations as early as the 1980s but Cornershop’s paean to her genius, marked the beginning of her mainstream acceptance. In the next few years her voice was hailed by critics as angelic, she recorded with jazz and pop groups and dare I say, very nearly became a household name (if only in the houses of music lovers)!
Jaan Pehechan Ho
Mohammad Rafi/Shankar-Jaikishan, revived in 2001
David Byrne’s album may have given the ok to a small group of Americans to like Indian film music but ten years later when the film Ghost World opened with Jaan Pehechaan Ho, regular Joes and popcorn snarfers all over the world were blown away. The song with its camp masked men, shaking Laxmi Chhaya and sparkling rock and roll music hit the zeitgeist like the Howrah Mail tearing up the Bihar countryside on a cloudless night. It later appeared in a ad for Heineken beer. All resistance was gone after this.
Jai Ho
AR Rahman in Slumdog Millionaire, 2008
Again, no introduction needed for this final song, featured here in the version remixed by the Pussycat Dolls. I thought the movie was ok and at first didn’t like the song all that much. But one day while shopping for shirts in a desert mall in Arizona, Jai Ho was playing over the store speakers and the young shop assistant mouthed every word. She loved it! And the conquest of the West was complete. By the way, for all of you who still pooh-pooh this piece, please grow up! Like so much of Rahman’s music it is a glittering, intricate, magical and simply gorgeous. Layers upon layers of luscious sounds. A perfect way to end a film and an article.