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Monday 9 November 2015

Shivkumar Sharma, Brijbushan Kabra & Hariprasad Chaurasia - Call Of The Valley

Released - 1967
Genre - World
Producer - Unknown
Selected Personnel - Shivkumar Sharma (Santoor); Brijbushan Kabra (Slide Guitar); Hariprasad Chaurasia (Flute); Manikrao Popatkar (Tablas)
Standout Track - Bhoop Ghara

Of all the albums I've yet written about on this blog, this is the one I feel least well equipped to really discuss. I just know very little about the context and the cultures that surrounded it, considering my lack of experience regarding Indian classical music. I did study Indian music for around half a term back in school but remember very little, and the vast majority of my listening habits have come to be centred around western music, largely just as a result of my upbringing and what I've been exposed to. There are places where the music I've been into or the people I've known have opened up my awareness a bit more to music from the rest of the world, but rarely specifically to Indian music, which seems odd considering its huge influence on western rock music in the late 60s. I therefore decided to start my interest in Indian classical music with a piece of work often referred to as one of the pivotal releases and one that brought Indian music to the wider attention of the world in general, 1967's Call Of The Valley, a collaborative release by santoorist Shivkumar Sharma, guitarist Brijbushan Kabra and flautist Hariprasad Chaurasia.

Of course, knowing so little about the traditions and formulas of Indian classical music, it's difficult for me to talk about from this from a technical standpoint, so I just won't try to. The only technical thing I know about the record is that Indian classical music is built around various different rags, each rag being a sort of structural framework for the music, similar to structural confines like a symphony or a concerto in western classical music. Each rag is traditionally associated with a particular mood or theme, and on Call Of The Valley Sharma's plan was to use rags associated with particular times of day so that the album as a whole charted a day in the life of a shepherd. Quite how successful this is on a technical level is a matter for debate by someone other than me, as I don't know enough about the musical structures the musicians drew upon, but there's certainly a sleepiness and an early morning, hazy sense to the opening minutes of "Ahir Bhairav/Nat Bhairav" that bears out the theory of the album's concept.

Shivkumar Sharma had been learning the santoor since a very young age, schooled by his father who had researched the instrument extensively. The santoor was traditionally an instrument used in Indian folk music and had never been used in the more formal setting of classical music, but Sharma's father set his son the goal that he would be the first person to incorporate the instrument into classical composition. On Call Of The Valley, Sharma sets out to do just that, but does so while ingeniously playing to the western market at the same time. A huge amount of the credit for the growing western interest in Indian music can be attributed to the legendary sitarist and composer Ravi Shankar, who had been touring Europe and America since the mid-50s and gradually fostering interest in the music of his own culture. While it wasn't until around '66 or '67 that this truly exploded thanks to Shankar's championing by the likes of George Harrison or Yehudi Menuhin, Indian musicians can't have been unaware of the growing interest in their work further afield, and Sharma's use of the concept album approach masterfully tapped into the burgeoning interest in storytelling through music that mirrored the rise of the concept album in western music at the time - this wasn't just impenetrable world music that western listeners would struggle to jump aboard with, it was programmatic music that told an easily relateable story from start to finish. He also called upon guitarist Brijbushan Kabra to be a key collaborator for the album - the slide guitar, of course, had been a key instrument in Indian folk music for hundreds of years, but, like the santoor, had rarely been used in classical music. The instrument's prominence in western rock music at the time played a key part in this album's enthusiastic response from the rest of the world. It represented a totally new way of working with an instrument that listeners and musicians alike thought they had become overtly familiar with.

The interplay of the santoor and guitar become the atmospheric backdrop for the album - the santoor creates humming, glistening soundscapes through which the sinewy slide guitar snakes and twines, and over these the bansuri (a bamboo flute) of Hariprasad Chaurasia becomes, in a way, the most prominent and melodic voice, soaring up high and painting pictures in the air over the other instruments. While the shepherd storyline may be a mostly contextual and figurative idea for the record, Chaurasia's wonderfully acrobatic flute playing makes it easy to picture the valley itself, with the flute maybe characterised as a bird that soars high above the work and chores of the shepherd himself. Providing rhythmic support is Manikrao Popatkar on tablas, driving the music into a frenzy on occasion. It's a shame he's the only musician involved whose name doesn't make it into the album's accreditation - his work may be less prominent or atmospheric than the other three, but when the tablas do appear they lend a driving urgency to the music that really helps develop it, and his work shouldn't go unnoticed.

The music in general feels closest, if anything, to ambient music when listened to in a western context. It's a million miles away from western classical music, which so often imposes form and structure and ornamentation onto composition. Here, the most potent thing about the music is the space afforded to it - there are times, as on the opening of "Rag Piloo," when the acres of space between the soft, reedy sound of Chaurasia's flute and Sharma's humming santoor seem to distend the music itself and the time it takes to hear it in a way that feels similar to some of the principles of ambient music, which wouldn't even be invented for another ten years. Of course, the context and technical approach between the two kind of music are wholly different, but it strikes me whenever listening to Call Of The Valley how well it works as an ambient record in a similar vein to the likes of Laraaji's zither and dulcimer masterpiece Ambient 3: Day Of Radiance.

Such was the popularity of Sharma, Kabra and Chaurasia's record that it firmly set a precedent for the santoor's incorporation into Indian classical music, achieving the dreams that Sharma's father had set for him. It also hugely captured the imagination of western musicians, riding the wave of the growing interest in Indian music that Ravi Shankar had initiated. The likes of George Harrison, Paul McCartney, Bob Dylan and David Crosby all went on to become fans of the album, while the musicians themselves became great successes at home in India. Sharma and Chaurasia went on to start a musical partnership with which they would write a number of soundtracks for hit Bollywood movies, while Kabra's guitar playing made him a hero of 70s hippy culture and he would continue to make several popular records.
Track Listing:

All songs written by Shivkumar Sharma, Brijbushan Kabra & Hariprasad Chaurasia.

1. Ahir Bhairav/Nat Bhairav
2. Rag Piloo
3. Bhoop Ghara
4. Rag Des
5. Rag Pahadi

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