Music director Bijibal: A tune is a musician’s statement and should not be meddled with

(Smiles) Maybe because I’m an introvert, and it could be an extension of that. It’s not deliberate.

At home, we had a rich musical environment with film songs and light music playing constantly. My father gifted me a violin when I was in the third standard and I was fascinated by its sound. I participated in group songs at school and occasionally in violin competitions. However, it was during college that I discovered the aesthetics of music and started exploring its meaning. I evolved as an artist during this phase, approaching music seriously and enjoying it.

Although I didn’t consider music as my livelihood, I assisted in music projects and accompanied small musical programmes. In 2000, I co-founded a small studio with my friend Rajasekhar, focusing on jingles and small works. This unconventional move faced criticism, but we believed in the future of computer-based music systems. Our studio eventually led to my collaboration with Lal Jose, and I started working on light music, devotional songs, and orchestration. Although our studio didn’t flourish initially, it was a crucial step in my journey.

I wouldn’t call it a mass entry. Lal Jose’s previous film, Classmates, was a massive hit, whereas Arabikatha turned successful gradually. It was a simple story, and Lal Jose chose Iqbal Kuttippuram to write the script. Although I had grown up surrounded by cinema, I didn’t know anyone in the film industry. However, I had worked on a jingle and small projects for Lal Jose, who was impressed with my work. For him, our friendship was more important than a traditional CV. The song Thirike Njan didn’t catch on initially. My friends were surprised because they had expected me to create complex classical songs, like in Raveendran Master’s style. But then, a stranger contacted me through Facebook, saying he was returning from the Gulf for good after hearing the song. That was the first appreciation I received for the song.

Briefing helps understand the director’s ideas. It’s often better than reading the entire screenplay as time may not permit it, and some screenplays may not be engaging. However, cinema is more than just the script... it’s about language, visuals, and the overall experience.

It happens. Sometimes we have to compromise. When I cannot get along with the director, I withdraw from the project. I have declined many projects because of such pressure. I cannot afford such interventions beyond a limit.

I feel more relaxed while composing music according to the lyrics. But this style may not always be helpful for the movie. The lyricist will write according to a rhythm, and all lines will have the same rhythm. If you write lyrics according to a tune, you get more freedom to explore the possibilities of music. It will be easier for a lyricist who has a good sense of rhythm and proficiency in language.

I make suggestions on rare occasions. I suggest some words that are helpful for open singing. Some words will have literary quality but may not provide ease of singing. But I always prefer songs with literary quality.

The literary quality of songs by poets like Rafeeq Ahamed will haunt you. They know how to use the appropriate word for each situation. The song will always resonate in our minds. The song may not be intense in theme, but they use imagery beautifully. Then we have lyricists like Santhosh Varma and Hari, who write songs with the craft of an engineer. They don’t compromise on literary quality and use the right word with the precision of a carpenter. Knowledge of music is an added quality for such lyricists.

The lyrics of the song helped a lot in its composition. The word Idukki itself is musical. Rafeeq explored this musical quality of the word. Apart from the scenic beauty, the role of Idukki in our agricultural economy was beautifully highlighted in the song (sings).

It was Ashiq (Ashiq Abu) who suggested Sreenath Bhasi for the song. Sreenath is a singer and likes English songs. He first sang the song roughly, which was beautiful. The second rendition was not perfect, but we wanted it to be spontaneous. It was composed in the raga Jog, which was used for the song Pramadavanam. The song created a lot of curiosity, and when I visited the National School of Drama, some students from the Northeast spoke about it.

That’s completely untrue. I don’t approach life that way. The song was created specifically for the film, and had it been written for me, it would have been entirely different.

Yes, that’s my approach. You could call me an opportunist in that sense. We all rewrite our ideas and perceptions at some point. I don’t use the word ‘loss’ in this context. I feel my life exists in a state of omnipresence, where every experience is valuable. It’s not about seeking blessings or dwelling on what’s gone.

I’m not interested in such poetic statements. What’s real to me is my own experience. Life is too real to be romanticised. If we consider it unreal, we’ll be seen as unrealistic. I don’t like sentimental decorations in such matters... I prefer authenticity.

When I was composing for Arabikatha, Laluettan (Lal Jose) told me to compose two songs. The idea was initiated by VS’s son. Vayalar Sharath Chandra Varma wrote the lyrics. I composed it and VS released it in Thiruvananthapuram. There were two songs — Kayyoorulloru Samara Sakhavinu and Alappuzha. Lal Jose liked the latter but I preferred Kayyoorulloru because of the lyrics. Though the initiative was meant for VS, the song is about all leaders, mentioning places like Vayalar, Karivalloor, and Kayyoor. VS, a leader I admire, was also preparing to face an election then.

More than political, I have a social perspective. I believe politics should be an extension of humanity. However, we support an ideology that is comparatively the best for humans. I believe that an ideology that says humans shouldn’t be labelled based on their address or anything is the better option. I support such perspectives.

I appreciate a touch of drama in life, but I prefer it to be subtle. I don’t seek to inject drama into everything, even in moments of excitement. It’s not about avoiding pressure, but rather avoiding a habit of creating drama, especially during moments of happiness. I’m not someone who becomes overly jubilant. In my happiest moments, I often tell my friends there’s no need for so much excitement—let’s keep it low-volume. As Albert Einstein once said, ‘Everything is a wonder or nothing is a wonder’.

It’s often a mistake on the part the sound engineers. They aren’t concerned about the aesthetics of the song or its intended meaning. They treat the song as just another musical instrument.

Cover songs help in exploring the original. For example, the song Mandaracheppundo... many youngsters became acquainted with the song after Thaikkudam Bridge sang it as a cover. After hearing the cover, they got curious and went on to hear the original. Youngsters often don’t have a history before a certain period, so cover songs acquaint them with many famous works. You might be surprised to know that many musicians of this generation haven’t heard some of the most famous songs of Yesudas from the ‘70s. For them, there is nothing beyond A R Rahman.

Yes, they should be. There has to be fusion but without losing purity. Carnatic musicians need to break barriers and engage in dialogue with global music. They need to come up with new music after understanding the values and roots of both genres. There is even a genre called Carnatic rock. They need to move beyond the religious zone and be able to express themselves in the language of Carnatic music.

Yes, and that needs to be broken. We need to realise that music speaks about us or our acquaintances. Only then will we be interested in hearing it. People who understand the ragas will be able to appreciate pure Carnatic music. However, the same can’t be said about everyone else. The new generation has started thinking differently, but some are still hesitant.

A song is subject-oriented and has its own existence. The tune and lyrics associated with it have a reason. A musician can create another tune but it should be entirely different and a creation of their own. A tune is a musician’s statement and should not be meddled with.

Their styles are different but their professionalism is commendable. Their way of learning a song is admirable. Yesudas sir, despite some hierarchical issues, has a great method for learning a song. He sings the pallavi of the song without any embellishments and aims for perfection before making any changes. Chitra too is highly professional. Jayachandran is in a different league... sometimes he behaves childishly, but once pampered, he brings out his best.

Chitra is very open to suggestions. I had face-to-face working experience with Yesudas sir for only one song. He had some apprehensions initially, but no other issues were working with him.

It’s a phenomenon for a period. There’s a possibility of the trend hitting saturation soon. All these songs sound the same and have the same style. But I feel cinema is a platform where we can hear songs of multiple genres. I feel filmmakers should create opportunities for people to hear songs of different genres in their movies.

It’s a show business. But some of the singers, like Najim (Najim Arshad), are great discoveries. In TV reality shows, everyone, including children, sings old songs, and a majority of the audience is above the age of 60. I have also participated in these shows as a judge. Some young talents are discovered through these shows, and we welcome those talents.

Sometimes, music directors do this intentionally as a form of high inspiration. The tune may be different but the approach can be very similar, which a musician can easily notice. For example, the song in Kantara may be said to be inspired, not an exact copy. It’s an effort by Thaikkudam, no doubt.

There are many such songs, for example, Tu Jahaan, Shyama Meghame, Nirangale, and some beautiful compositions by Madan Mohan, MSV, etc. I often wonder how songs like Megham Poothu Thudangi were created—the thought behind it, the lines, the execution. The song has a festive spirit, but it’s not a festival track, and that’s the beauty of it.

I would say it’s a gross misunderstanding. People like Bhaskaran Maash successfully experimented with the language during the ‘60s and ‘70s itself. I’ve also done a song like Vaanam Neelayaanu Bhai, which is essentially a fun number with simple lyrics but deeply philosophical. In Tamil, right from the time of Kannadasan, lyricists have mostly been using relatable words, whereas Malayalam has different layers. Yes, there was a time in the ‘80s when we churned out terrible songs with forced lyrics to popularise them, but things changed with the arrival of talents like Rafeeq Ahamed.

There are pauses in conversations as well. I like pauses. Especially in songs, you create a cut and give a one-second pause or gap in between. You are not doing anything substantial for what follows. But when silence comes abruptly and then another line starts abruptly, that ‘high’ feeling will be there. I like that.

Mostly, these criticisms happen on social media. It is a space where people love criticising and hounding others. That’s how these roasting videos and review videos get millions of views. They have become so influential that people now trust their opinions blindly. Criticism within four walls will help a person improve but I don’t agree with what’s happening now on public platforms. It usually ends up offending, at a personal level.

As far as I have observed, they like music with no limits. Often I even wonder whether studies have made us gated. The new generation has no such limits. What they hear, see, and explore — a big world is before them. This big world was there before us too, but we are often reluctant to go there. We are satisfied with what we have. But they are not like that. They try to see and hear whatever they can. They are willing to go the extra mile and celebrate the same. They are eagerly awaiting every second to indulge in such things.

Yes, their social background is very different from ours. We’ve come through so many taboos—the caste system, hierarchy, people who always want to probe about another person. I come from such a background. But now, such things don’t even appear on the fringes of their thoughts. So there is no need for them even to refuse or disown such things. That’s my understanding. I don’t know if all the new generation people are like that, but the children I have come across don’t have such baggage. I have high hopes for them.

(Interview by Vignesh Madhu, Kiran Prakash, Cithara Paul, Rajesh Ravi, Manoj Viswanathan, Najiya Nazrin A and Anna Jose)