Out of Key

What is about RD Burman that simply separates him from just about every other music composer living or dead? Since his untimely death in 1994 RD’s aura has only grown and today there is no other film composer who can even compete with him. It’s in this context of RD reverence that Anirudha Bhattacharjee and Balaji Vittal’s R.D. Burman- The Man, The Music becomes a very important book.

Strangely for a film fanatic country like India we hardly have a tradition of writing books on the very people who fuel our passion for cinema. Bhattacharjee and Vittal seem to have put in a lot of effort to come up with 342 pages of stories, anecdotes and trivia about a man who had been hailed a genius right from the first steps he took in his life as a music composer. What is sad though is that R.D. Burman- The Man, The Music ends up being a wasted effort. The biggest issue with the book is that in spite of all the good intentions and laudable effort Bhattacharjee and Vittal’s writing ends up being precious more than an extended school essay.

There are two reasons to write a book on someone’s life and it’s very clear from the word go that the duo, like millions, simply love the RD Burman and his music. To say that Pancham Da was a genius would be an understatement and although he comes across as one in the book two seem to be more apologetic about it. There are instances in the book where people are quoted saying that RD was forced to lift some tunes like Abba’s Mama Mia, which would become Mil Gaya in Hum Kissi Se Kum Nahin, by ‘powerful’ directors but rather than leaving it at that, which would highlight their point of RD’s reluctance, the two write that “In any case Pancham’s arrangement was jazz-based, whereas ‘Mama Mia’ is pop music (Pg 212).” Somewhere the writers seem to be fine with RD Burman who “Like a jazz musician would pick up a spark from an original tune, Indian or Western, and colour it with his own interpretations (Pg 221).” Like Hum Kissi Se Kum Nahin Bhattacharjee and Vittal, in the manner of speaking, blame the audience for not being privy with information that Pancham’s Mehbooba Mehbooba from Sholay which sounds almost similar to Demis Roussos’ Say You Love Me was forced upon him by Ramesh Sippy (Pg 193).

The brilliance of hundreds of songs composed by RD Burman that have withstood the test of time is not hidden. Tune into any talent hunt reality show or a radio channel at any time of the day and the chances are you’d hear a RD number within seconds. The last few chapters of the book have a list of websites and quotes from singers as well as music composers of the day who eulogize Pancham Da till kingdom come but by that time chances are that you would be tired of the motif that Bhattacharjee and Vittal run through the book; almost all important RD songs are dissected to a point where it becomes mind numbing information. Bhattacharjee, who happens to be amateur musician breaks down every RD song on the basis of the raag it was composed in or inspired by, how the prevailing popular 1,2,1,2 beat (for example) was overlooked and an unlikely 1,2,1,1,2 (for example) was utilized, how the antra of the song sounded similar like the opening riff of that some other song and how the mukhda was vaguely similar to an old classic but presented in a different ‘meter’….it’s just too much information. While some serious music students or aficionados would like such detailed information this could have been limited to some iconic numbers where reading about the method in the madness would have made sense. Also the manner in which Bhattacharjee and Vittal present this information makes RD look like some geek whose brain was a precursor to a computer where even amateurs could come up with path breaking music.

Another thing that many seem to have overlooked about R.D. Burman- The Man, The Music is that it’s a badly written book. I don’t say this because the writers aren’t professional (used for the lack of any other word) writers but I say this because the book is replete with examples of childish writing- “Pancham’s infectious composition Haye Re Haye Re with its jugglery of beats was like a sedan showroom in the midst of a desert (Pg 180); Born a prince, he could not be far away from fine living either. His favourite perfume was Grey Flannel designed by Geoffrey Beene which, with the essence of lemon, geranium and cedar wood blended with notes of musk, violet and sage, had the same meticulous mixing that Pancham used in his music (Pg229); Interestingly in the film (Rocky) the names of both the hero Sanjay Dutt and the villain Shakti Kapoor had the initials ‘RD’ (Pg 241); True, the lead actor Sunny Deol had the looks, but then, so do most TV newscasters (on Nasir Husain’s Manzil, Manzil and Zabardast (Pg 286). Additionally there are instances where the book comes across to be badly researched as well. Like the writers say of Teri Kasam- “The film was probably of the first where the Indian censors passed a kissing scene.” (Pg 241) or “the music of I3 (as Ishq Ishq Ishq is known) is something of a cult” (Pg 178)… to the best of this writer’s knowledge I3 was never an acronym for Ishq Ishq Ishq.

But nothing can explain certain aspects of the book that in spite of being important are partially explored by the writers. No book about RD Burman can be complete without Asha Bhonsle and Gulzar but in this book both are hardly spoken to about RD the man. People like Vidhu Vinod Chopra and Dr. Hariawala, RD’s London based surgeon, speak about how Asha left RD Burman and yet the writers don’t talk about it. Asha Bhonsle has in public always maintained that she and Pancham were like peas in a pod but the book repeatedly suggests that all was not so sweet but doesn’t scratch the surface. Chopra says “People close to him, including Asha Bhonsle, left him” and that’s just it as far as Bhattacharjee and Vittal are concerned. Sachin Bhowmick even suggested that “… Pancham told me there was no marriage or anything like that.” He told the writers that, “Asha had taken Pancham with her to a temple in Darjeeling one night (when he was) in a drunken state. Garlands were exchanged" (Pg 246). Never once do the writers suggest that they tried to speak to Asha Bhonsle or she refused to comment.

While the writers could have consciously decided to keep off the personal life of RD Burman and Asha Bhonsle, there is no reason why they would never ask Pyarelal Sharma of Laxmikant-Pyarelal the reason why the duo warned Subhash Ghai that they would never work with him if Ghai signed up with Pancham (Pg 305). This becomes more bizarre because at a few places in the book the surviving half of L-P praises Pancham to the skies.

The best thing about the book is the rich information about the accomplished musicians like Manohari Singh, Franco Vaz, Ramesh Iyer, Kishore Sodha and Kersi Lord amongst the many more who formed team RD. The book is filled with instances that show how RD created the magic that has come to define him- like how the theme of Babu from Satte Pe Satta was created by recording the sound of background vocalist Annette Pinto gargling and playing it in a loop!

RD Burman’s is a life that is just what dreams are made up of- a prodigy of a son to an iconic music composer, a custodian of a rich heritage who transformed into a harbinger of a change that would revolutionize the manner in which Hindi film music would be composed, a solitary man who knew the value of being a team player- RD Burman’s is a life that always cried out loud to be spoken about. It’s really unfortunate that the first serious endeavor to chronicle this beautiful life in the form of R.D. Burman- The Man, The Music is way out of key.

*This review was originally written for Buzz in Town