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I would like to use this site to acknowledge all the efforts that contributed to today’s storm in the Indian parliament, the Lok Sabha. The furore was caused by the attempted ban of the Bhagavad-gita as an ‘extremist’ literature in the town of Tomsk, Siberia.

Yesterday I raised the issue during a reading of the entire Bhagavad-gita with 400 participants and 150 online. I asked them to sign the petition of protest. Simultaneous protests were taking part in India and in other parts of the world.

The attempt to ban the Gita in Russia – nationally – through the aegis of a local court is extremely misguided. I am very happy that Indian politicians have responded in outrage to the attempted censure of the holy book of the Hindu faith, to the point of the speaker of Parliament having to close proceedings.

Report here: http://in.reuters.com/article/2011/12/19/uproar-at-call-in-russia-to-ban-gita-idINDEE7BI0D120111219

I have been following the recent Leveson Inquiry into media ethics and the role of the police in the ‘phone-hacking’ events. Here’s the background info:

The Prime Minister announced a two-part inquiry investigating the role of the press and police in the phone-hacking scandal, on 13 July 2011.

Lord Justice Leveson was appointed as Chairman of the Inquiry.  The first part will examine the culture, practices and ethics of the media. In particular, Lord Justice Leveson will examine the relationship of the press with the public, police and politicians.  He is assisted by a panel of six independent assessors with expertise in key issues being considered by the Inquiry.

The Inquiry has been established under the Inquiries Act 2005 and has the power to summon witnesses.  It is expected that a range of witnesses, including newspaper reporters, management, proprietors, policemen and politicians of all parties will give evidence under oath and in public.

It will make recommendations on the future of press regulation and governance consistent with maintaining freedom of the press and ensuring the highest ethical and professional standards.

After the ‘phone-hacking’ and use of private detectives by the now defunct News of the World newspaper, the inquiry was set up to investigate other cases of  media intrusion and possible police collusion. Notable celebrities have been telling their stories of shady characters intruding into their privacy, bribing friends or colleagues for juicy gossip, or hiding in bushes with long-range lenses for that saucy snap.

People who are famous got to be that way with the help of media exposure. So when it helps them become loved by the public, they love the media. When it reveals too much, or shares unhelpful details of their personal life, or acquires stories by unscrupulous means, they hate it. The newspapers, on the other hand, and their happy-snappy camera people, say that it is ‘in the public interest’ for their readers to be able to read about the latest goings-on in the world of the rich and famous.

Having helped to create someone’s fame, so to speak, the newspapers often feel they have a right in creating their infamy, too. Thus, like all things in the material world, there is an ‘arc of fame,’ from the time a person does something outstandingly well in sport, politics or entertainment, and attracts favourable attention; right through to the time when they do something wrong and come crashing down in the eyes of the public. Newspapers help to establish both fame and infamy, they know that, and so they feel a certain power over an individual – especially someone they’ve helped.

The News of the World did a lot of good in its time, no doubt. The newspaper exposed dodgy politicians, scandalous clergy, bent coppers, and all manner of crooks, from pound-pinching swindlers to paedophiles – all were named and shamed by the newspaper in its long history. More than anything, it was probably that public service which made them feel invincible and which made them feel they could cross a line of moral propriety. They knew the public liked them because of their crusades against injustice. Even the police were on their side.

And that was the problem. Although the facts are still murky and no-one wants to own up, the police would share certain stories with the paper, and the paper would follow them up with their own hired private detectives. A powerful crime-fighting combination. Only it wasn’t a legal combination, and that was the problem. Newspapers operate for profit and the police force must never be in collusion with media, government or church. So when it became known that those same private eyes were spying on the rich and famous – for no other reason than salacious gossip – the newspaper became unstuck. Indeed, it wasn’t even anyone rich and famous that finished them off in the end; it was the hacking of a young girl’s phone, a young girl who had been murdered. This one incident was enough to disgust the very same public, and as more details of other nastiness became known the newspaper curved through its own arc of fame, crashed, and closed its doors forever.

The revelations of just how far the News of the World had gone in its quest for stories, faked or otherwise, became the news for other newspapers, and then it was discovered those other, more respectable papers, had also been involved in illegal news-gathering. The accusations and counter-accusations became an almost daily occurrence and the story ran and ran. Somewhere along the line, the very subject of the ethics by which media ran its business became the essence of the discussion. Shrinking sales figures due to internet news provision had caused newspapers to take desperate risks in their bid to attract readers. And while printing unsubstantiated stories with no supporting facts, and creating stories entirely from imagination are not unusual practises, the desperate newspapers had gone to even greater lengths to provide ‘news in the public interest.’

That was essentially the issue. The public liked to read not only about the great and the good, but also how the great and good aren’t actually that great or good in real life. Stories about the actress found in bed with the bishop, or the politician found hunting men on Clapham Common, or the eccentric behaviour of the aristocracy – all titillated the readers and sold newspapers. Unfortunately the great British public just loves a good scandal, particularly when it involves someone slipping on a banana skin – or the social, political, moral or financial equivalent.

Somehow, discovering that people who are ‘better’ than us, richer than us, more famous than us; or just cleverer than us, are actually worse than us in real terms – is very reassuring. It makes us feel not so bad about our under-achievement or our relative lack of fame or education. We shouldn’t really be insecure, but we are, and we need to feel safe about who and where we are. Journalists know this and shamelessly prey on it, writing stories in just the right way to capture our attention and give us that warm fuzziness. And by buying the papers we pay them to do that. So in the great debate about media ethics, we should also look within – because our choices helped to create the ethical dilemma.

Sales of our album Chakram are very healthy and the reviews have started to come in. The Vaishnavas seem to like it. Here’s a sample from ISKCON News in the USA:

http://news.iskcon.com/node/4031

And here is a rather amusing review from Sitapati Das in Australia:

In 2000 I was washing dishes in a kitchen in Wellington, New Zealand, listening to one of my favorite kirtan tapes. A visiting devotee from the UK said to me: “Who is that you’re listening to?“, so I told him: “Dude, that is like Krpamoya“, because in New Zealand we speak like we’re in Los Angeles.

He gave me a puzzled look. “Why are you listening to him?” Now it was my turn to give him a puzzled look: “Because he’s like, awesome“. Now his look turned pensive. “Hmm, I never thought people around the world would listen to his kirtan on tape. To us he’s just this guy who leads kirtan at the Manor.“

In millenial New Zealand Krpamoya was the name of a guy who lead an awesome Janmastami kirtan on a highly sought-after tape that was copied and passed around kirtan afficianado circles. The energy of the kirtan was palpable – it was massive, with a powerful bottom end provided by a lot of mrdangas, and Krpamoya effortlessly moved between melodies with a fluid grace and a voice that was liquid gold.

It was awesome.

Now fast-forward to 2011, and Krpamoya has released a studio album “Chakram”.

All I can say is: “What happened?“

No, I’m kidding.

But while I’m kidding around… there’s a famous scene in the mockumentary This is Spinal Tap where the band are being presented with historical reviews of their albums and asked for their reaction to them. The reviews become increasing brusque until they reach the point of a single, dimissive sentence. Here’s my Spinal Tap review of Chakram: “Can’t wait for the movie to come out, can’t listen to the album without it“.

The album opens epic. It’s not a stretch to imagine the opening track as the extended mix of the opening credits to a BBC program. The dramatic drums and the sound of swords being drawn evokes the ITV series “Robin of Sherwood”, and Clannad’s album Legend, the sound track of the same.

Now I have a confession to make: Legend was the first record I ever bought, and I wore that thing out listening to it.

There are no sleeve notes for Chakram, no credits or musician listings. For some reason I imagine Krpamoya and Jayadeva (was he involved?) locked in a studio somewhere, and discovering a movie sound effects library, and just going nuts.

I couldn’t find the right context to listen to the album. But driving back from Sydney overnight (a 900km drive), I discovered the missing piece – a quest epic enough to warrant the soundtrack of Chakram.

Chakram, like Gaura Vani’s music, and like Akhanda Nam, is an interpretation of kirtan. Where Gaura Vani draws from a diverse base of traditional Indian and contemporary Western musical forms to create a familiar yet fresh pop experience, and Akhanda Nam draws on the esoteric with the idea that the more alien it is the more authentic it must be (or is that “the more authentic it is, the more alien it must be”?), Chakram draws on a different cultural base to find its unique take – the Indian movie soundtrack.

This is a kirtan album produced by the spirit of AR Rahman.

In the correct space to process the whole thing, as I drove through the Celtic Country of Northern New South Wales on an epic quest, I was able to fully savour the flavours of Chakram.

The opening track has all the hallmarks of an epic movie soundtrack, and a contemporary one at that, with the right kind of processing applied to the female vocal (Krpamoya’s daughter Tulasi?). That track is begging for a techno / dubstep remix. I’m serious. Listen to it.

Although there are no liner notes, I know that Chakrini provides vocals on the album, because Krpamoya was giving me a guided tour of the Manor when we ran into her, and she talked about it.

The second track on the album is a version of Narottama das Thakura’s Sri Rupa Manjari Pada flawlessly executed by Krpamoya and Chakrini as a harmonised duet. Each of their voices are gold, and together they are priceless. Harmony (disparagingly referred to as “Horror-mony”) is frowned upon by purists. However, Western music is based on harmony, and Western ears and minds are developed to appreciate, and even require it; and western ears will find much to be pleased with here.

The song is carefully scripted and has a pretty standard arrangement. Many times interpretations of traditional songs founder on the fact that the structure is plain. It’s the same thing repeated several times. If you don’t speak Sanskrit, then it all sounds like gibberish, so the only thing you have to appreciate is the melody. And if that is just repeating, well then it’s boring.

The titles of the songs on the album are all in English, but the songs are all in non-English languages.

However, a careful listening reveals several very interesting and emotionally provoking tweaks in this version of Sri Rupa Manjari Pada. There are points where the harmonies diverge in an interesting fashion, creating and resolving tension in interesting ways. You may not understand the words, but you can feel the rasa. One of the verses has a 6/8 phrasing that gives it a staccato feel that sets it apart from the rest. Small tweaks like this combine to create a very subtle yet powerful effect.

It’s slick in its sound, and slick in its production.

Krpamoya has an interesting interpretation of the song “Ajna Tal” following this, which he titles “Dancing in the Streets“. The opening to this song uses space and reverb, with a woman’s voice, to paint an aural picture with a palette of raga. Moving through the Northern New South Wales countryside at sunrise, it makes a perfect sound track.

Krpamoya has eschewed the traditional instruments associated with the musical tradition that he is reinterpreting for a contemporary audience – for example the mrdanga drums, and instead uses the sound effects that he found in the movie sound track library. I’m kidding again. The Song “Ajnal Tal” (Dancing in the Streets) is traditionally performed with a 6/8 feel. This is hinted at by a drum – is a darbuka or similar goblet drum, or a bodhran, or both? Here’s where liner notes would provide a clue. Whatever the drum being used, it is skillfully woven into the background, and doesn’t at all sound out of place while driving through Celtic Country. Nor does it produce the “wtf?” experience that western audiences, conditioned to 4/4 pop music or 3/4 ballads, typically have when a hardcore head-wobbling Indian 6/8 rhythm kicks in. It remains true to its roots while remaining subtle and non-confrontational.

Another track that deserves a special mention here is “Let the Bee of My Mind Fly to the Eternal Lotus”, traditionally known as “Krishna Deva Bhavantam Vande“.

This track begins with another soundscape painted with a female vocal (this time I believe Krpamoya’s daughter Jahnavi), and an innovative use of space, reverb, and ambient effects. Whoever produced this has some serious mad skills and sensibilities. The colours of the raga are intriguing also. The meaning of the mantras is obscure (liner notes!), but the music conveys the emotional message without the necessity of rationality. When Krpamoya begins to sing the song, it is the perfect resolution for the tension created by the opening scene.

The next track – “Father, what is Spirit?” – is the only English track on the album and is a spoken word piece where Krpamoya gets a little preachy, but in a delightfully English way. It’s kind of “Hinduism as presented by C.S. Lewis”. And I think Krpamoya, aside from his musical contribution, is kind of like the C.S. Lewis of ISKCON. Maybe the movie that goes with this album is kind of like a Narnia movie, but I digress.

The album, once I got past the epicness of the opening track and found the right space to experience it in, was a very rewarding experience. The guest vocalists are superb. The production is impeccable and the arrangements are reinterpretations into contemporary western musical vocabularies that remain faithful to the originals.

Verdict: Get the album, go on an epic quest and play it as your personal sound track. Alternatively, add it to your existing collection of movie sound tracks and C.S. Lewis spoken-word records.

Disclaimer: In the interim between hearing the Janmastami kirtan and listening to Chakram, I visited the UK and met Krpamoya, staying with him and his family at their home in a quiet cul-de-sac in the English countryside. They all have red hair, and one of them is Jahnavi, the violinist in As Kindred Spirits. Musical ability runs in the family as much as devotion does.

Update: Apparently the CD comes with a 16-page booklet. I should have downloaded the *other* torrent. (Actually, I got a complementary copy, which didn’t include the liner notes.)

You can check out the musicians, the producer, the engineering, and all the technical specs here.

Raghavendra Swami was a follower of Sripad Madhvacarya and lived from 1595 until 1671. Indu Yenage Govinda is a much-loved song that he sang shortly before he passed away. It is in the Kannada language of Karnataka. The song is a lament for time on earth wasted in material life. Expressions such as this are just as common as exultant songs of praise to Krishna. They are based upon the very real feeling, as death approaches, that: ‘I could have done more. I was given a precious chance to achieve perfection but I wasted my time.’

Raghavendra Swami’s leaving the world was extraordinary in that he simply walked into his own samadhi tomb and assumed the lotus position. Many years later, during the time of the British Raj in India, the local district collector, Sir Thomas Manroe, came to the small village of Mantralayam and visited the tomb. His purpose, however, was not devotional. In 1812 the East India Company had passed a rule that when a temple or shrine had no living owner, the property would be seized by the government. By 1820 the tomb and accompanying temple of Raghavendra Swami had no owner and the British official had come to arrange for its transfer of ownership.

“Where is the Swami?” asked Sir Thomas Manroe to the villagers, and the locals pointed him to the tomb. He took off his shoes and entered the structure. As the villagers and priests gathered around they saw a curious sight. The British government man was speaking to someone inside the tomb. They could see him asking questions but no-one could hear the replies. After some minutes the gentleman came out and with a smile said: “Well, that all seems to be in order. I’ve had a charming conversation with the Swami who speaks excellent English by the way, and he assures me that he is the owner of this place.”

Some weeks later, Sir Thomas was promoted to governor of Bellary and was therefore in the extraordinary position of officially approving his own account of the story. He came to understand that Raghavendra Swami had indeed passed on 150 years previously, but also knew that he’d had a conversation with him that day and noticed that: ‘His face was glowing…’

There are many such miraculous stories of Raghavendra Swami, but here is a rough translation of the song and two film versions of it, one old and another more recent:

Oh Lord Govinda, Mukunda, Lord of Indira (Lakshmi) please show me your lotus feet today.

Oh one with a beautiful face, son of Nanda, personification of bliss, who lifted the Mandara mountain, Lord of Indira…

I got engulfed in worldly bondage and suffered a lot. I did not see the way ahead, and despaired in the world. Oh Krishna, divine father, please consider me your child and do not count my shortcomings.

Oh Hari, out of sheer ignorance I led the life of a coward and did not show deep, strong devotion. I did not see you. I did not sing your glory. Oh charioteer Krishna, I beseech you.

During my lifetime I was a mere burden on the world. I lost my way and became like wicked people. There is nobody to protect me now. It all depends on you.

Oh brave Venugopal, please help me cross over this world of repeated deaths and births.