• My favorite albums and composers of 2009
    Rahul | January 3, 2010, 2:44 PM | no comments | 0 views

    Crossposted from my blog.
    Happy new year to you all! 2010 is here, so I guess I need to get my act together otherwise I’ll still be publishing my 2009 lists in march 2010!! (Which is not as rare as it should be, because there is always some potentially good movie from previous year that I don’t get to see till well into the next year). Anyway… moving on to this list..

  • Five definitive songs and moments in Marathi cinema
    Qalandar | September 16, 2009, 8:40 AM | 14 comments | 0 views

    Marathi cinema saw its most glorious days in the 60s and 70s, with some great films like Shyamchi Ayi and Tukaram being made. Some of these are difficult to procure on You Tube, so I’m offering a small glimpse of what this regional cinema entails starting with the 70s.

    The Seventies

    The 70s saw a profusion of good, meaningful yet entertaining films with soul stirring melodies. This was a time when Marathi cinema probably had the same prestige as one associates with Malayalam or Bengali films.

    1) Mumbaicha Jawai (Mumbai son-in-law)1970 (more…)

  • Qalandar’s Music Review: BLUE (Hindi; 2009)
    Qalandar | September 11, 2009, 11:20 PM | 56 comments | 0 views

    Outright fun, not to mention silliness, has long been a casualty of A.R. Rahman’s recent Hindi oeuvre. Unlike in Tamil, Rahman simply hasn’t done very many soundtracks for “ordinary” Hindi films of late. That is, the typical Rahman Hindi album this decade has been a Swades or a Jodha-Akbar, or a Delhi-6 — not a Rangeela or a Daud. The last year might well be the beginning of a shift, with Ghajini, and now Blue. No song in either album will ever make a list of Rahman’s best, but equally, no-one can doubt that at their best, these albums feature a more playful Rahman, the sort of souffle-lover one missed in the likes of Jodha-Akbar. On the down-side, at its worst, the likes of Blue do give the impression of a composer who hasn’t lavished much care on his work. Luckily for us, the balance comes down on the side of buying the album.

    Read the complete review HERE.

  • When the music died
    Som | August 8, 2009, 8:08 PM | one comment | 0 views


    There was tonnes of nostalgia in the media on Kishore Kumar’s 80th birth anniversary (August 4). There have always been plenty of stories about Kishoreda — from his genius to his eccentricities. But the one person whose incisive comments on Kishore would’ve livened up all the TV programmes was himself missing. And that was his elder brother, Ashok Kumar, known to all of us as Dadamoni. Out of all the colourful Kishore Kumar stories that the film industry rolled out, Ashok Kumar’s were the most intimate and interesting ones. Of course, there was always that touch of almost parental affection that Ashok Kumar brought to his narrations because there was a two-decade gap between the two brothers. When he spoke about Kishore’s singing, Dadamoni’s one constant observation was, “Kishore’s biggest quality as a singer is that he hits the right note bang on spot, he is never besur, never goes off-key.”

    While Dadamoni touched 90, Kishore died in his fifties. Strangely, so did Mohammed Rafi and Mukesh with whom Kishore had formed some sort of triumvirate in the recording rooms. All three had distinct voices and singing styles, all three ruled the world of playback singing, all three died suddenly of a heart attack while still in their fifties. “Isn’t that a strange coincidence,” Nitin Mukesh remarked when Kishore passed away. “It just shows how intensely passionate they were, how much strain they put on their hearts while singing.”

    Everybody had an anecdote or two to narrate about Kishore’s many eccentricities, one of which was to put off unwanted visitors by pretending not to be at home. Ashok Kumar himself told me that he was once in the vicinity of Kishore’s bungalow in Juhu, so he drove up impromptu to meet his brother. At the gate, he was met by Kishoreda’s Man Friday who told Ashok Kumar that dada had gone out. Ashok Kumar accepted that and was about to drive away when a thought struck him and he asked the Man Friday, “If Kishore is out, what are you doing here?” That’s when the loyal batman told Ashok Kumar that Kishoreda was very much at home but had instructed him to tell everyone that he was out. The Man Friday had applied the rule even to Dadamoni who was like a father to Kishoreda!

    The magic the two Ganguly brothers brought to Hindi cinema, individually, has not been replicated by anyone to this day. (more…)

Back to Top