T M Krishna: John Nash of carnatic music?

The music was stunning; but regrettably so were the eccentricities.

TMK’s concert on January 14 for Kalaivizha 2016, at Kamarajar Memorial Hall, Teynampet, provided ample grist for anybody who wanted to profile him either as ‘eccentric’ or ‘genius’.

The music was unexceptionably brilliant, completely out of the ordinary. The Begada alapana and the padam, Yaarukkagilum Bhayama, seemed to be the main fare, even though technically the crown should be fitted onto the head of the Kalyani varnam, Vanajakshi, for the tani was attached to it. There was a Jayadeva’s Gita Govinda, Priye Charusheele, rendered in Mukhari, and between the opening piece, Thyagaraja Swami’s Sahana composition Emmana and the Priye Charusheele, came an explosion of multi-raga tanams, which TMK and violinist R K Sriramkumar took turns to lead each other…well, even the most fastidious adherent of tradition would have to admit, was bloody good! It was one of TMK’s finest concert. Ten days down the line, the Begada continues to buzz around my ears.

But the concert also seemed to throw up disturbing questions. Why does the man, so insanely talented, behave like a fruitcake?

For better part of the concert, he sat half-turned towards left, facing violinist R K Sriramkumar, who was seated next to him. RK was sitting next to TMK, facing the audience, and so the singer was turned away from them. Nothing wrong there, but it did create a sense of disconnect between the singer and the people who had gathered to listen to him. On a few occasions, TMK fell into silence, pausing for longish durations—during which periods there were nothing to listen to except the violin’s bow running on the string and the mridangam’s gentle tap-tap—his eyes closed, face expressionless, like a vague somnambulist. During one of such schizophrenic pauses, he rubbed his palms over his face and eyes, like a man stirring himself out of stupor. And, an hour-and-a-half into the concert, he asked the organisers, sounding vague and distant, till what time he was expected to sing. (It is to the credit of his fine music that someone in the audience shouted, “till 11.30” – the time then was around 8.15 in the evening.)

At one point, when he had taken the singing to a crescendo, there was an instant applause from the audience, but TMK, still eyes closed, grimaced, waved vigorously with both hands and said, “kai tatti keduthudadinga” (don’t upset it by clapping.)

TMK’s chin-up nonchalance and disregard for tradition is fine if there is a purpose behind it. When Ariyakudi Ramanuja Iyengar established the kutcheri format that has since become the norm, it was to bring carnatic music in sync with the times. But if you sing a Sahana piece very elaborately, neraval and swaras and all (and oh, neraval at one point and swaras at another), and then after the audience has had its full and has applauded heartily and is eagerly awaiting the next treat, you pick up again Sahana for tanam? I mean, there seems no purpose behind vandalising guidelines of tradition and in the absence of a purpose it does appear that TMK is merely trying to act out his iconoclasm, rather aggressively, so as to say ‘I shall do anything I please’.

It is not so much the demolition of tradition that is disturbing—in fact, it is not disturbing at all. It is the attitude. Why? Why, after picking up a varnam in the middle of a concert, has to append kalpana swaras to chittaswaras? (The swaras were at the point of the last chittaswaram sequence, pa ma ga ga ri ri sa ri ri.) Why does this accomplished artiste, whose music can shock-and-awe and command respect, need any antics at all? Why – and what – is he so desperate to reform? As the Americans say, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it—and there is nothing wrong with carnatic music today, so why fix it? Why does this accomplished artiste, whose music can shock-and-awe and command respect, need any antics at all?

Attention-seeking behaviour and exaggerated sense of self-importance seem to have become defining traits of TMK. One well-known instance is his agonizing over a belief that carnatic music is Brahmin-oriented, even as there are outstanding examples of non-Brahmin carnatic celebrities—MS, MLV, Palani Subbudu, Yesudas, Madurai Somu and a whole lot of Nadaswara vidwans, including muslims Sheik Chinnamoulana Sahib and his son Kasim—and when carnatic music is entirely open to anybody to take up. But there are other instances too. Remember when there was a spat between reviewer V Subramanian and Sowmya, TMK jumped in, uninvited, saying “I agree with Sowmya”? Or, his fulminations at the holding of the Season festival, using words such as “vulgar” and “insensitive”? 

As far self-importance, check-out his website, www.tmkrishna.com. Here is an excerpt from it: “Krishna’s pen is sharp, his words blunt. He thinks upon and writes about issues affecting the human condition and about matters musical.” I’m not sure if these are his own words, or someone else’s. In any case, they exist in his official website.

The January 14, 2016 concert was sparsely attended. The hall wasn’t even half full. I hope that it does indicate dwindling popularity. I hope the fact that it was a Thursday and was a priced concert, explains the thin attendance.

For, regardless of his oddities, his music is nothing short of great.

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Hint for 'Guess who? - 1'

This picture should tell you who he is.

If you still can't guess, scroll one post below to know who.

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