When British guitarist John McLaughlin and Indian tabla player Zakir Hussain teamed up in the early 1970s, they couldn’t have imagined the path-breaking journey that was ahead of them.
They founded the group Shakti, with violinist L Shankar, percussionist TH ‘Vikku’ Vinayakram and mridangam player Ramnad V Raghavan. The musical maestros presented the kind of East-West fusion not been seen before with live performances and an iconic album. The lineups changed in subsequent decades, but what remained constant was McLaughlin and Hussain as the heartbeat.
Apart from making a name for themselves as world-leading live performers, they created musical masterpieces and inspired generations, who have followed in their giant fusion footsteps.
They are currently on a 50th anniversary world tour with the latest line-up of Selva - ganesh Vinayakram, who replaced his father in the group, Shankar Mahadevan, and Ganesh Rajagopalan. They will deliver two of this year’s finest concerts at Eventim Apollo in London on June 27 and 28.
Eastern Eye caught up with arguably the greatest tabla player of all time, Ustad Zakir Hussain, to discuss the Shakti journey and forthcoming London shows. He also gave key advice to young musicians.
SelvaganeshVinayakram, Shankar Mahadevan, JohnMcLaughlin and Ganesh Rajagopalan
You have had such a phenomenal career, and keep powering on, what keeps that music passion alive?
My father (Ustad Alla Rakha) always said, ‘Don’t try to be a master. Just try to be a good student and you will get by just fine.’ That is at the core of the passion that drives me. We are all students from the day we are born until the day we die. The need to learn more than a need to find new ways to speak my tabla language, to tell the same story, using different vocabularies so that different genres of artists would understand what’s going on with my life. That’s a very important lesson. So that is what drives me.
John McLaughlin has been a big part of that journey…
You know, when I play with John McLaughlin, I see and hear my music through his eyes and ears. And that changes the perception. It changes the way it looks, and sounds. Therefore, it gives me a new look at my music and, lets me put light on stuff sitting in the nooks and corners that I have forgotten to explore. So, learning is what really drives you.
What are your memories of the first Shakti concert?
The ecstasy, joy, extreme happiness, a feeling of flying without wings. A feeling of being in the right place with the right group of people, who were thinking and executing exactly what I was. That is the first memory of us as Shakti performing.
What else do you remember about that day?
The concert, I think, was held at Southampton College in Long Island. I remember the Wimbledon final was being played on that day. So, it was a summer concert and we got on stage, with practically no rehearsal, and played. To be playing and improvising together, cross-legged on the platform like Indian musicians do, was a landmark moment. I thank my lucky stars that we are here today 50 years later.
Did you ever imagine that Shakti journey would last so long?
I never thought that Johnji and I would still be celebrating Shakti 50 years down the road. What an amazing journey it has been. What has remained constant through this journey about Shakti and its various incarnations is the same joy, incredible happiness, ecstasy, and the feeling of flying without wings. That has been a pronounced experience through the different changes that Shakti has gone through.
Ustad Zakir Hussain
And that high standard has always been there…
So, it has not been like a new band emerges every time a new member joined in. It was more like a continuation of that feeling – a statement that came from four or five collective minds. It has always been there since the first time we played that Southampton day, which became the first record, and set the tone. That has not wavered. We still play with the same energy, vigour, passion, joy, and happiness, that existed on day one.
What has it been like doing this 50th anniversary world tour?
Doing this 50th year anniversary tour has been a delight. A feeling of being so lucky to work with Johnji, Shankar Mahadevanji, Ganesh Rajagopalanji, Selvaganeshji, and the many other musicians who have been with us. You know, we miss the incredible U Shrinivas, of course – we lost him and that really derailed us for a while before we came back again. I have to say the anniversary tour has begun well, with the same energy, love, and affection for each other.
You are bringing that beautiful energy to the UK…
I have to say that the concerts in India went amazingly well. I’m sure that our Lon[1]don shows on June 27 and 28 will have the same energy. They will be that same incredible, ecstatic, joyful, experience for not just us, but for the whole audience.
Do sky high expectations around you as a collective put pressure on you?
We have such a great time when we are performing on the stage and have been on a really great journey, so the happiness is such that there’s no question of any pressure or anything. We’re going to have a great time because we love each other. We love each other’s way of thinking about music. So, we can walk the path without having to really think twice about it. There really is no pressure. That’s what’s great about Shakti.
That camaraderie on stage between you is legendary…
The relaxed atmosphere and comforting feeling of being with each other is so strong that we can spontaneously change the arrangement of a song instantly and still deliver an incredibly tight set of music. It’s no pressure at all, especially when we get on stage. If things get a little rocky in the beginning, we get to the song Giriraj Sudha, which is like our signature tune. We get into the first riff off it and the next thing you know, we are off and running, no problem at all.
So many have followed in your footsteps, what key advice would you give to young musicians?
To those young, aspiring artists, all I have to say is, don’t be afraid to fail. Don’t be afraid to fall flat on your face on stage and look silly. It’s ok. Failure is a doorway to your first lesson towards being successful. Don’t play it safe. Take a chance, try things that you’ve never done before. And know that it’s going to turn out, right, if you keep trying it.
Tell us more about that…
It’s going to show you a new path, give you a new sound, and experience, and inspire you. All sorts of great things would happen if you go out there and try to be creative rather than just playing a tried and true package because you’re afraid to fail. So don’t be afraid to fail, just go out and do it.
Why should we all come to the London concerts?
As I said earlier, it will be an incredible musical experience of extreme happiness, ecstatic joy and feeling of flying without wings. Seeing music being created, spontaneously, intuitively, and collectively by five minds as one is something to behold. That’s what you would come to see, creativity at the level that you know, is something wonderous.
Why do you love music?
Why should I have to even think about why I love music? I love music because it is part of my DNA. The spirit of music living in my instrument is like a brother and soul mate. Like a rhythm mate, always with me and as my security blanket. My mode of expression and communication. It is where I feel at home and in control. I love music and I hope that music loves me.
Shakti at Eventim Apollo, 45 Queen Caroline Street, London W6 9QH on June 27 and June 28. www.eventimapollo.com and www.shakti50.com
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A seated Jain enlightened teacherAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Ganesha from JavaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
A Chinese silk painting depicting the BuddhaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
ArdhanarishvaraAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Head of a grimacing yakshaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
NagaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
The Bimaran casketAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Hunia Chawla
A still from rehearsal
The cast of Marriage Material in key moments from the play, including Avita Jay, Kiran Landa, Omar Malik, Irfan Shamji and Anoushka Deshmukh
Sathnam Sanghera’s 'Marriage Material' adapted into bold new play on conformity
The play Marriage Material at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre is Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti’s adaptation of Sathnam Sanghera’s novel of the same name, which first came out in 2013.
She is lucky to have Iqbal Khan direct Marriage Material. The play, a co-production with the Birmingham Rep, is set in the late 1960s. Mr and Mrs Bains (played by Jaz Singh Deol and Avita Jay) run a corner shop in Wolverhampton. Their younger daughter, Surinder (Anoushka Deshmukh), is 16, her sister Kamaljit (Kiran Landa) is just a bit older.
They have a neighbour, Patwant Dhanda (Irfan Shamji), who, as we shall soon see, is not a very pleasant man. In fact, he comes across just as racist as Enoch Powell, who represented Wolverhampton South West for the Tories from 1950 to 1974.
It will be recalled this was a time when Sikhs working on the buses were told they couldn’t wear a turban. That was a hard-fought battle that had to be won.
The Bains, meanwhile, simply want to get their girls married off.
Nothing new here, I thought.
What makes the tale different is that the plot twists and turns down the generations. Mr Dhanda, who has the makings of a paedophile, makes a pitch for one of the girls when Mr Bains dies early in the play. “A life with no man in the house is no life,” he informs the newly widowed Mrs Bains.
Mr Dhanda has a wife but she has returned to India so he considers himself to be a free man.
Surinder’s English teacher from school, Miss Flanagan (Celeste Dodwell), who is also head of the fifth form, tells Mrs Bains about her daughter: “I don’t want to embarrass you, but she is bright. Ridiculously bright.”
She adds: “Mrs Bains, I think it would be a pity if Surinder didn’t stay on at school.” The initial response from Mrs Bains is not encouraging: “Too much education makes people’s brains get mixed up, they don’t sleep at night…”
But she is finally persuaded that Surinder should be allowed to stay on for a while longer before being married off.
Mr Bains was very old school. When Surinder confides she would one day like to be “a somebody”, he is amused that “my daughter wants to be a somebody”.
“Like you,” she tells her father.
Mr Bains consoles his daughter: “We will find a somebody for you to marry.”
At the point of a possible marriage, however, Surinder is sweet-talked by chocolate salesman Jim Wilson (Tommy Belshaw) into running away with him. They share a love of literature, and he calls her “Sue Bains”. But the relationship does not end well.
Once she has left, Surinder is written off as “dead” by her family. The story that is circulated is that she was only 16 when she was killed in a car crash. That’s better than to let on that she ran off with a white man.
By the time she is reconciled with her sister towards the end of the play, a great deal has changed. Kamaljit married Tanvir Banga (Omar Malik), a young man who helped out in the Bains’ corner shop. When the two sisters meet again, Tanvir has also died. But he and Kamaljit had a son, Arjan Banga (Jaz Singh Deol doubles up for this role after the death of Mr Bains). He has come home after his father’s death to help his mother who is still running the family corner shop.
Meanwhile, Mr Dhanda’s business has prospered. He now has a son, Ranjit Dhanda (the role is taken by Omar Malik after Tanvir’s death), and he is nearly as unpleasant as his father.
Arjan has an English fiancée, Claire (Celeste Dodwell). In London, Arjan worked as a creative director. But after deciding to stay in Wolverhampton to help his mother, he decides he cannot marry Claire because she is white. In other words, Asians are not free of racism, either. Happily, at the end, the couple are reconciled.
As for Surinder, she parted company with Jim Wilson after realising he was all talk, depended on her for money and had failed to earn a penny from his literary pretensions. She had prospered, though, as a hotel owner and had been transformed in time into a well-groomed businesswoman. After being tracked down by Arjan, she decides to return to her roots in Wolverhampton and help Kamaljit run the family corner shop. Perhaps 50 years had passed during the passage of the play.
Being subjected to racism turned some Asians into racists themselves. The word goreh (white person) is repeatedly spat out with venom. Maybe it is worth remembering the play’s audience isn’t exclusively Asian – white folk are watching as well. And maybe some of the toilet humour ridiculing white people, which always makes me cringe, could be cut out.
In Sanghera’s novel, there is a quote from Enoch Powell’s speech in November 1968: “The West Indian or Asian does not, by being born in England, become an Englishman. In law he becomes a United Kingdom citizen by birth; in fact, he is a west Indian or an Asian still... he will by the very nature of things have lost one country without gaining another, lost one nationality without acquiring a new one. Time is running out against us and them. With the lapse of a generation or so we shall at last have succeeded – to the benefit of nobody – in reproducing ‘in England’s green and pleasant land’ the haunting tragedy of the US.”
In Marriage Material, where the acting is marvellous (apart from Mr Dhanda’s Indian mannerisms and accent being overdone) we do travel across a couple of generations.
There is a scene when Tanvir rejects Mr Dhanda’s vision of creating a little Punjab in Wolverhampton.
Mr Dhanda wants to take over the Bains’ corner shop and is putting pressure on Tanvir to sign the papers. He says: “In this country, money is the path to freedom.”
“Sign, please,” he instructs Tanvir. “We must make sure our children learn to behave nicely, according to our rules.”
He insists: “We maintain our identity so we can be ourselves.”
Tanvir disagrees: “We can be us here. With the goreh.”
Dhanda warns him: “Then we will be inviting chaos.”
Tanvir’s comment is telling: “You sound like Enoch.”
Kamaljit, who is expecting a baby with her husband Tanvir, says: “I would like my child to grow up knowing the history of the Gurus and to read the Granth Sahib. And to love their culture.”
Tanvir tells his wife: “I would like my child to go to the finest schools, to cheer for England in the World Cup and eat Yorkshire pudding on a Sunday.”
Kamaljit sets out a dream that has perhaps come to pass with many third and fourth generation British Asians: “Maybe our child can do both.” Much, much later, in a throwback to the past, we learn of Surinder’s O-level results: “Biology A, Chemistry A, English Language A, English Literature A, French A, History B, Latin A, Mathematics A, Physics A…”
Kamaljit tells her younger sister: “Never mind about the B.”
And that is quintessentially Asian. Their acting is outstanding.
Marriage Material is at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre until June 21, and at the Birmingham Rep from June 25-July 5