The sounds of music
It is the season of mists and
mellow fruitfulness (to
someone whom The Man
from Madras Musings has forgotten)
the nearest Chennai
ever gets to winter, unless
something drastic happens
with global warming. It is also
the season of music and
MMM begins to hum along,
except when under the
watchful eye of the Chief and
the gimlet gaze of She Who
Must Be Obeyed who, in
mufti, is otherwise MMM's
good lady.
Having been to several
sabhas and done several
things over several years,
MMM can be considered an
authority on acoustics, or
rather what they ought not to
be, and, based on his experience,
he has classified the audio
systems in the various locales
under different heads
and these he presents to you
today. In local parlance, the
audio system is usually referred
to as the sound system
and in this case sound is to be
taken as a synonym for noise.
The sound system, in 90 per
cent of the cases, is also not
sound in its general state of
well-being.
But now to get on with it.
THE DOG – This is invariably
in sabhas that are rough-and-
ready locations. The budgets
are small, the paying audience
even smaller and the
venue is a convert from a derelict
kalyana mandapam or old
school hall. The best sound
system that can be afforded is
usually a left-over from political
meetings. It is usually a
vast assemblage of several
speakers, positioned one over
the other and all of them with
cracked diaphragms. The
'soundman' usually sets the
volume to the maximum and
then vanishes to the nearest
tavern or Tasmac and emerges
only when the concert is
over. The sound system,
therefore, transmits a series of
woofing and barking noises
right through the concert.
THE SIREN – This is the
sabha where space is a
constraint. The artistes are all
positioned thigh-by-knee and
yet each of them demands a
separate microphone to satisfy
his/her ego. These venues
are usually located close to a
main road with lots of buses
plying and so the demand for
a separate mike is not entirely
unreasonable. But what happens
is that each mike detests
the others (rather like the
members of the arts fraternity)
and lets out a deafening
wail every five minutes. There
is usually a desperate search
for the soundman who, if you
remember, is at Tasmac.
THE MUFFLER – MMM
has never managed to fathom
this one, but there are venues
where no matter what be the
setting, the best the audience
can manage with is a sensation
of swimming underwater with
someone else trying actively to
communicate. Whales could
take their sonar lessons from
these sabhas. You know when
you are at such a location
when, as soon as the curtain
goes up, each member of the
performing troupe begins looking
at side wings and signalling
that the volume of his/her respective
microphone be increased.
It also implies that the
volumes of other microphones
be set at zero. But looking at
the side wings is a futile exercise,
for the soundman is awol,
but not at the Tasmac but at
the sabha canteen. The muffler
is usually at respectable venues
where the soundman would
not dream of a tipple while on
duty. But tiffin is another
matter.
THE ECHO – This is experienced
at the ultra-respectable
Meccas of music, the kinds
that were originally inaugurated by titled nobility and had
at least one Maharajah on the
founding (but, sadly, not the
sounding) board. They specialise
in echoes especially during
percussion interludes. MMM
has often had the sensation
that he is attending two concerts
simultaneously, one
for'ard and the other aft. These
are invariably attributed to
structural defects and, no matter
what the soundman does
(and he does his bit), nothing
ever changes.
PLAGUED-BY-EXPERTISE
– This is where the
soundman fancies himself an
expert. And you are left wishing
that he would occasionally
take off and visit the nearest
Tasmac, leaving you to hear
the rest of the concert at peace.
Such soundmen are minor celebrities
in their own way.
Artistes fawn on them, all in
the hope that the soundman
would leave the settings alone.
But that is never to be. Right
through the concert, the volume
levels will keep changing;
now a mere whisper, now a
deafening shout, now complete
silence, now breaking the
noise barrier. But MMM has
to admit that there is never a
dull moment.
Rain Quixote
The Man from Madras
Musings has in the past had occasion to speak of the
prediction abilities of our
weathermen and he is thankful
to them that they are ever
keeping him supplied with
material for this column. The
latest was a couple of weeks
ago when it was predicted
about wet weather. Nothing
wrong about that, but the addendum
took the cake. It was
predicted that it would rain
everyday between 11 pm and
3 am. What of the rest of the
time and do the clouds follow
a time clock? Apparently they
do and also apparently, like
the garbage disposal men in
our city, the clouds are averse
to night duty. It never rained
and after a week we had an
announcement that Chennai
was in for a dry spell. Surprise!
surprise!
MMM strongly suspects
that the lack of rain is due to
collusion between Met officials
and Corporation/PWD.
The latter, no doubt, apprehensive
that the city's infrastructure
cannot cope with
any more rain, must have appealed
to the former for ideas.
The Met-men then announced
rain at night, whereupon
the clouds shied away and
that was that.
But what of next year is
what MMM wonders about.
Will it be back to water in
tankers and the sight of the
ubiquitous plastic kudam?
What with the power situation,
the mounting garbage,
the traffic chaos and, now,
water scarcity, Chennai is no
longer the paradise it once
was. But MMM must admit
that we have all worked very
hard to get it to this state.
Season's greetings
If it is the season of mist
(we did go into that a short
while ago, did we not?) and it
is also the season of goodwill
to all. The Man from Madras
Musings alludes to Christmas.
While MMM and, he is sure,
all of you have your own ways
of celebrating it, the politicians
have decided that this is
the season to put out posters
greeting what they consider
yet another vote bank and,
therefore, deserves to be kept
happy. Consequently several
posters have been pasted on
walls all around the city. It is a
moot point if the owners of
those walls feel the same goodwill.
But MMM did when he
saw one that hailed the mater
dei of the State as 'The Celebrity
of Minorities'.
On that happy note, have a
great 2013.
– MMM
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