Hindustani music festivals running over two or more days have always featured many sets of performers. But conventionally, a standalone concert would present only one set. The concert would go on for three hours or even more depending on the calibre of the performer and the response from the audience.
However, over the past two decades or so, concert organisers have been trying to feature many performers in a single session. They have probably been driven to doing this in order to reach out to diverse audiences with varied tastes. As a result, musicians are forced to squeeze content within 60 to 90 minutes and the conscientious among them are even worried that encores may spill over into the time allotted to succeeding performers.
As a consequence, concerts sometimes turn into neatly packaged capsules that do not allow musicians the liberty to dwell over musical ideas – even if they are enticing.
Notwithstanding the artistic compromises that performers may be forced into in these stifling circumstances, one may feel that the very physical presence of so many of them in single concert would add an important component to the audience. In other words, each set of musicians could be a part of the audience once their performance is over so as to encourage or perhaps provoke the next set, provide critical appreciation and also enrich themselves.
In most cases that does not seem to happen for a variety of reasons.
But it would interest readers to know that musicians were very much a part of the audience in earlier times when smaller concerts were hosted by music circles and when a single performer was engaged for the entire session that could well last through the night. For instance, concerts held in the 1930s by the Bombay Music Circle, one of Bombay’s early major music circles, attracted an audience that would include eminent musicians like Alladiya Khan, Ramkrishnabuwa Vaze, Umrao Khan (son of Tanras Khan), Vilayat Hussein Khan, Faiyaz Khan, Abdul Karim Khan, and Govindrao Tembe.
Evidently, performing for such an audience was an onerous task. Responses from musicians in the audience ranged from being appreciative and adulatory to being prejudiced or even competitive. The performers in turn were respectful towards this section of the audience or even challenging at times.
I am not suggesting for a moment that the responses from both sides as experienced earlier need to be emulated today. That is something that present-day performers decide, but the limited point I am trying to make is that the presence of musicians in the audience could provide a different perspective to listening and could even guide lay listeners through their responses.
Admittedly, this exchange between performers and musicians in the audience is more palpable in smaller concerts or intimate settings, and not as much in large venues that seat hundreds and thousands of listeners.
Unfortunately, we do not have recordings of the early concerts organised by music circles like the Bombay Music Circle. But here is a track featuring a performance by Agra gharana exponent Khadim Hussain Khan that comes close to capturing the spirit that I have described here. The maestro presents distinctive elements of the Agra style and demonstrates differences in raags. The main vocal support is provided by his disciple and senior vocalist Lalith Rao.
One of India’s leading tabla players, Aneesh Pradhan is a widely recognised performer, teacher, composer and scholar of Hindustani music. Visit his website here.