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Together Apart: The divided art world

Together Apart: The divided art world                     

By Anantha R. Krishnan 

If you can meet with triumph and disaster/and treat those two impostors just the same. - Rudyard Kipling (This quotation by the famous author Rudyard Kipling is prominently displayed at the entrance to Centre Court at Wimbledon.)

I saw a powerful piece of journalism following the 2008 Wimbledon final between Nadal and Federer - a match that epitomises one of the greatest sports rivalries and, to tennis enthusiasts, represents the pinnacle of entertainment. As the emotionally charged match concluded, the camera shifted from the post-match ceremony to this quotation. The reason behind this shift remains unclear, as it was a unique occurrence.

However, that moment triggered a profound shift in my perspective as an artist; it fundamentally altered my motivations for creating art. In the most unexpected place, I found inspiration for my ethos as an artisttranscending individual achievement in favour of celebrating collective human connection. The essence of true artistic success, I realised, lies not in individual triumph or failure, but in the shared experience and the potential for emotional communion.

In the early years of honing my skills on the mridangam, navigating the dual heritage of being the grandson and disciple of vidwan Palghat Raghu on my maternal side and being paternally connected to Muthuswami Dikshitar, presented unique challenges and advantages. The cultural dichotomy of growing up in the US while practicing an Indian instrument allowed me to view Indian music from a distinct perspective. This, coupled with the rigours of the tala system and the complexities of being an accompanist, introduced a set of challenges that even the most privileged must confront, including unavoidable discrimination. These experiences have deeply influenced my approach to music and my understanding of the artist’s role in society.

Currently, social commentators in the industry are exploring and debating the tensions between the powerful and the powerless. In this debate, I highlight a common misconception regarding discrimination.

The discussion is often centered around caste and gender. But there are other kinds of discriminations, rarely recognised or acknowledged. For example, it’s widely believed that ‘Brahmin and male’ individuals are among the most privileged in the Carnatic music scene. However, even a Brahmin male who is an accompanist can experience significant discrimination and inequality. 

The real oppressor of the Carnatic community is the marquee name. The `main artist syndrome’ is one of the root causes for the abuse of power in the pecking order on stage and the offstage personal dynamics. Regardless of gender, merit, or community, as an accompanist (if we take a sample size of most mridangam artists as the highest bracket of privilege by largely being both men and Brahmins), one is subjugated to a rarely understood oppression.

The argument in favour of professional misogyny that male artists refuse to play for female artists is a moot point. Calling out all male artists collectively for refusing to perform with women due to their caste or gender unfairly overshadows many artists of the same background who have actively supported the success of leading figures in the industry. Those accompanying artists have their own struggles in spite of being a Brahmin or a male artist.

The problem of discrimination here is control of power and privilege largely held by the main artist; many of them are vocalists without credible merit. As an accompanist one faces a constant omission of his or her name in advertisements, careless misspellings, difference in travel comforts, lack of financial transparency and little to no credit for intellectual authorship or royalties. One could be bold enough to say, for every Tyagaraja song sung, there are no notated mridangam parts; the truly original aspect of a sound recording of a Carnatic kriti is technically the accompanying percussion. Where is the credit?

The soft power struggle - that which is off stage - also affects the accompanist’s life. Their musical preferences, social associations, psychological behaviour, and eventual happiness quotient is still a brittle path to tread when there is a frequency of musical interaction with a main artist. Commercial discussions and contracts are rarely seen or implemented with courage.

There are a multitude of other issues which plague the professional experience of being a male accompanist, however, a page out of an old schoolbook of my pedigree (I can hear my mother saying) would read something like, “Hardship is not a choice. However, self victimisation is.” 

Addressing and overcoming some of the above listed points is an ongoing process. I have opened a distinct possibility for a heavy amount of backlash, because on a personal and professional level, it is well known that I have it the easiest in the bracket of an accompanist (coming from a “privileged” background). Rarely do I find myself in the position of the exploitation I have listed above, and it is my sincere gratitude and love to the main artists and marquee names, I continue to perform with and accompany. However, perhaps it is a point to note that many of my friends, who are accompanists, may not have it as easy as I do.

After all that has been said thus far, I must bring to attention that the real  motivation for my words is to put forth the noble thought that there is still a beautiful possibility that beyond various personal struggles, music has a purpose of bringing humans together. (echo: Mr. Kipling)

The discourse around oppression, caste dynamics, and media sensationalism often becomes mired in virtue signaling and deep-seated narcissism. These discussions can highlight flaws and appear aggressively compensatory, yet they seldom offer effective solutions. In contrast, the enduring enthusiasm for creativity suggests a more uplifting truth. Despite these challenges, artists remain driven by a profound desire to create, share, and thrive through their music. This ongoing passion often helps overshadow the persistent discriminations. Ultimately, the vitality of live art prevails, reminding us of its transformative power.

Recognising the complexities involved in crafting experiences, we must emphasise the vital role of live performances and inclusive communal gatherings in the Carnatic music scene. Although not all concerts manage to deliver an exceptional experience, the presence and role of supporting musicians and enthusiasts in creating these opportunities is crucial. Is there a way to foster new vibrant music and a strong desire for community events and addressing significant issues without causing deep divisions?

(The author is a mridangam artist)

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