When A Treat Is Not A Treat, But Is A Double Treat!

Trust A R Rahman to pull a fast one on us when least expected. For the past 3 years we’ve been fed on crumbs, literally – there have been a measly 3 albums (Rang De Basanti, Guru and Jodhaa Akbar) composed by the musical genius since 2006 and we’ve been forced to sportingly take that lying down. And now out of the blue, two A R Rahman albums releasing one day apart! Talk about a double treat. And even though I know that as a die-hard A R Rahman fan I should be ashamed for not having had a shadow of an inkling that Rahman had been preparing to cut his own album for the past 6 months or so, there’s a certain special charm to pleasant surprises like these. It kind of makes me wish I hadn’t spent the 6 months before the release of the 7^th Harry Potter book obsessing about the million or so theories concerning anything and everything about Potterverse.

Right then, so the big question, of course, is – how good are the two new A R Rahman albums – Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na and Ada? I’ll start with Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na, or JTYJN for short (I really did think Aamir Khan, of all people, wouldn’t find the need to have the title of his movie sound like the first half of the script). The movie is supposed to be a youthful romance, and Rahman, as always, makes sure that every track in the album perfectly fits the theme of the movie. The first track, Kabhi Kabhi Aditi Zindagi is - there’s no other word for it – vintage A R Rahman. In other words, a very very good composition. Jaane Tu Mera Kya Hai is somewhat a middling track – a little weird on melody, and the kind of song you don’t really know whether to like or not. Nazrein Milaana almost sounds like Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy territory, and I think I should add here that Rahman does a better Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy than anyone else, maybe even better than the trio themselves. I normally hate to use this word, but the track is wonderfully - peppy. So much for the perennial classical inclinations of the maestro.

Pappu Can’t Dance is, plain and simple, disappointing. If there has been one grouse I have held against Rahman these past few years, other than his tendency to occasionally disappear from the music scene for months together, is that he seems to have lost his touch when it comes to dance numbers. Which was the last really rocking dance number you heard from him? Masti Ki Pathshala from Rang De Basanti? When I heard that song for the first time, I had a hard time getting past the fact that the song actually had no tune to speak of. Personally, I thought the Meherbaan track from Tehzeeb was great, but even that was nearly 5 years ago. I don’t know about you, but I really miss the days of Rangeela Re and Humma Humma. But we must make do with what we have, and what we have is still quietly and impressively enthralling. Kahin To Hogi almost sounds like a Westlife/Boyzone track with Hindi lyrics, and it does its job well. And can we ever have a Rahman album without a single track that strays dramatically from the beaten Bollywood path? Tu Bole Main Boloon is laden with heavy jazz and funk elements, and while I’m sure it’d suit the context of the movie well, I can’t really say that I enjoyed the track.

Ok, enough of film talk. Let’s talk about Rahman’s own privately recorded album Ada now. The thing that struck me the moment I started listening to the tracks of the album is how unnatural Rahman’s songs sound when sung by typically dulcet singers like Sonu Nigam and Alka Yagnik. Maybe I don’t notice that in Rahman’s Bollywood albums, but then again, how often does he sign up the typical Bollywood singers anyway? I personally can’t get enough of Rahman’s own vocals – there’s something very endearing about the way he completely disregards the lyrics of the song (he still can’t speak Hindi, even after all these years) and gets lost, almost like a child, in the rhythm and melody of the track. As it turns out, however, there’s just one song sung by him in the album, and that put me off in a big way. Ada is a very nice album, no doubt, but I somehow get the feeling that Rahman is playing it safe with this album – almost too many mass-appealing numbers. Gulfisha is a fantastic track, but what on earth is Gumsum all about? For a second there I almost felt like looking it up on the internet and making sure that it was actually Rahman who’d composed the track and not some blissfully stagnant Nadeem-Shravan or Sajid-Wajid type of music director, what with the Madanpura-style beats and all. Hawa Sun Hawa restored some of my faith in Rahman, and Meherbaan almost made me feel guilty of my earlier disparaging thoughts about him, but Ishq Ada again goes on a tailspin, taking ‘weird melody’ to another level. Hai Dard and Milo Wahan are a little too ordinary for my liking, but Tu Mera Hai is again an impressive piece. I suppose by now I should’ve gotten used to the wild fluctuations in quality that have been the norm with any Rahman album ever since I can remember, but it always comes as a surprise to me that genius must necessarily have its low moments to inspire and propagate its incredible highs.

I think I’m going a little overboard with the whole ‘Rahman and genius’ thing. But you know what, when compared with the run-of-the-mill plagiarists that make up the majority of Bollywood’s musical talent, ‘genius’ might actually be a bit of an understatement. It’s not everyday, after all, that a Taal or a Dil Se is created. To be honest, however, the Rahman magic seems to be waning a little these days – perhaps he needs to take himself a little less seriously? He’s become the mascot, so to speak, of international music, and it just seems to me that he’s become a little too conscious about making sure that his music reflects the global appeal of his work. I think he needs to let go of all the baggage that comes with being a larger-than-life icon and concentrate, instead, on making uncomplicated, beautiful music, the kind of music he made for Roja and Rangeela, the kind of music that made us fall in love with his astonishing – I’m sorry, but there’s no other word for it – genius. No, I have not over-used that word. Some people just deserve to be exaggerated about.

Sport in All Its Fascinating Glory

I had sworn I wouldn't write about tennis at least until the French Open got underway, but guess what, I'm notoriously bad at sticking to resolutions. And besides, the tennis world hasn't exactly been lacking in sensational developments lately, has it? Ok, I'll admit that Justine Henin's retirement from tennis wasn't as big a shock as some tennis analysts seem to think it was, but it was huge news anyway. Let's leave Henin and her motivational problems aside for a bit though, because right now all I can think of is of Roger Federer and his ridiculously captivating quest to solve the Rafael Nadal puzzle on clay. The Hamburg final yesterday between the world's top two players looked very much like a repeat of their Monte Carlo final three weeks ago, which Nadal won 7-5, 7-5 after being down 2-4 in the first set and 0-4 in the second, but yesterday was, for Federer fans at least, infinitely more satisfying and more disappointing at the same time. That may sound like a paradoxical statement, but if you watched the match, you'll know what I'm talking about. How can you not admire Federer for playing such sublime tennis that he got to leads of 5-1 and 5-2 respectively in the first two sets against the superhuman king of clay Nadal? And yet, how can you not be infuriated that Federer blew both those leads through some very poor serving in crucial games?

The final score went 7-5, 6-7, 6-3 in Nadal's favour, and for some reason I wasn't as depressed at the end of the match as I thought I would be. Part of the reason for that could be that I was rapturously happy that it went to a third set at all after Federer went 0-40 down on his serve at 5-5 in the second. Some mighty fine serving got him out of that hole, and then he ran away with the tie-breaker, restoring some of my faith in his ability to play well on the big points. But I think the main reason why I'm not so gloomy right now is because Federer seems to be playing like a claycourter for the first time in memory, and he finally seems to have discovered the right strategy to play Nadal. Those 5-1 and 5-2 leads mean nothing with respect to the result of the match, but I'm sure it's more than comforting for Federer fans to remember that those leads did happen; Federer is fully capable of dominating Nadal for reasonable stretches of time, and, short of a large bunch of crushing victories over Nadal on clay, I don't know what else can give Federer and his fans greater hope and confidence for the French Open. And to top that, Nadal maintained his grip on the No. 2 ranking by winning his semi-final against Novak Djokovic, which means that the terrifying prospect of Federer facing Nadal in the French semis has been firmly avoided. Comforting thoughts aplenty for the average Federer fan.

Speaking of Djokovic, I can't believe that I actually called it right when I said his semi-final match against Nadal may turn out to be the best match of the year. The tennis that the two put in the match was spell-binding, breathtaking, insanely riveting and spectacular all at the same time. The thing that was firmly established in my mind while watching it, however, is that when Nadal is at his best, it won't just take a superhuman effort by any player in the world, including Roger, to defeat him - it will take much, much more than that. Nadal's defense, particularly his incredibly steady forehand when pulled wide and his nearly-unfailing backhand passing shots simply defy belief. How do you defeat a player who refuses to let even the most ferociously well-timed potential winner convince him to give up the point? Djokovic played fabulously throughout the 3 hour long match - for the first time ever, I found myself feeling bad for him - and I have a feeling that the years of torture that Federer has faced on clay at the hands of Nadal will now be passed on to Djokovic. I guess if he wants to inherit the No. 1 ranking from Federer, he'll have to take on everything associated with Federer's famed legacy. Federer and Djokovic may do all that they can to adapt their games to suit clay and spend months practising on slow courts and hire the most adept and inspiring coaches to help them get their hands on the French trophy, but the truth is that Nadal will always be there, forever stalking their paths, eternally intimidating, absolutely relentless.

Someone who will not always be there, of course, is Justine Henin, who became the first woman in the history of tennis to retire while ranked No. 1 in the world. The thing with such premature retirements - Justine is still all of 25 years old - is that they invariably invite comparisons with Bjorn Borg's retirement back in 1982 (or was it 1983?) at the age of 26. For once, however, I think the comparisons are justified - both were at the top of their games when they bowed out, and both were thwarted in their attempts to capture the last bit of glory missing from their respective careers - the US Open for Borg, and Wimbledon for Justine. Justine actually went so far as to admit in her retirement press conference that she never believed she had it in her to win at Wimbledon, and that it was always a distant dream to her that never seemed within her reach. Perhaps that's what made it all the more desirable for the undisputed clay queen?

Then there's also Justine's admission that her win against Maria Sharapova at last year's year-end championships, the 4th-longest women's match in history which Henin won 5-7, 7-5, 6-3 after nearly 3 and 1/2 hours, took too much out of her both physically and mentally. Can anyone say Wimbledon final 1980? Borg won that match against John McEnroe after a titanic struggle and an epic 4th set tie-breaker that McEnroe won 18-16. Borg was never the same after that, losing 3 Grand Slam finals to McEnroe before formally announcing his retirement. It was the changing of the guard - McEnroe was a brash, arrogant, but also prodigiously gifted tennis player who was showing signs of embarking on a GOAT-worthy career - and Borg knew it. Did Justine Henin undergo the same thought process as Borg? Her crushing defeats at the hands of Sharapova and Serena Williams this year certainly point to that possibility. But then again, all of this analysis and theorizing is based entirely upon conjecture; there's no real way of knowing what exactly goes on in an athlete's mind, is there? Specially if the athlete in question is as reticent and guarded with the public as Henin. She said she had no 'fire' left in her to play tennis any more - and that could be because fighting and neutralizing the power games of her opponents took a heavy toll on her body and mind, but it could also be because of a totally personal matter that had nothing to do with tennis, or maybe she simply got bored of tennis, period. All I know is that these are the kind of poignant moments that we watch sport for - if sport was just going on the field and playing to win then there wouldn't be much charm in it, would there? Justine's retirement has been a fascinating subject to think and talk about. Almost as fascinating as Federer's already-legendary pursuit of that last bit of filthy silverware. Almost.

The Different Forms Of Art

There is something to be said about playing to the gallery with such pinpoint precision that the very act, provincial and classless as it may seem on the surface, is elevated to an art. The makers of Iron Man 'play to the gallery' with such remarkable intensity that it's hard to imagine anyone not thoroughly enjoying the movie. The loud bangs and vivid scenes of mindless flinging and flying of heavy objects are all in place, as are the mandatory romantic subplot and crisp humorous lines by the protagonist. Just about every cheap mass-appealing cinematic technique is thrown in, but no one's complaining, because all of it works so perfectly. It helps, of course, that the film is laden with some of the most magnificent cinematography and special effects ever seen, and that Robert Downey Jr. and Gwyneth Paltrow have no shortage of that thing called screen presence. No, this movie won't be thought about in connection with the year's Oscar hopefuls, not even as a joke, but I can tell you one thing: you'll have a blast watching it. Which is considerably more than you can say about any potentially Oscar-winning movie. Don't get me wrong, I still think Batman Begins is the best superhero movie ever made, but sometimes it's nice to not keep looking for cinematic brilliance or aesthetic expertise or thought-provoking dialogue and instead watch a movie for pure entertainment.

Moving on to a completely different subject, I've just realized what the best thing about the game of tennis is: it allows for very little mourning time. The tennis schedule is so jam-packed with tournaments that the average tennis fan gets very little time to wallow in his miseries and bemoan the total lack of joy on earth when his favourite player or players lose, because before you know it, the next tournament, and the chance of redemption for the player in question, is already underway. And this is exactly what happened with me this week, when Roger Federer's quarterfinal loss to Radek Stepanek (?!) at the Rome Masters was followed by Novak Djokovic winning the tournament, which, trust me, is a big, big tragedy in my eyes. The Hamburg Masters actually began even before the final match between Djokovic and Stanislas Wawrinka started, so I had no option but to snap out of my depression and get back to my nervous checking of the tournament schedule and live streaming/scores and assure myself that Federer hasn't yet made an early exit at a tournament for the umpteenth time this year. Incidentally, a potential semi-final match between Rafael Nadal and Djokovic at the Hamburg Masters might just turn out to be the marquee match of the year, considering the fact that the winner of the match gets to walk away with the No. 2 rank in the ATP computer rankings. I'm nervous for Rafa already.

Just finished watching the extended, unedited versions of all the three Lord of the Rings movies (which might actually be the exact antithesis of a movie like Iron Man) for what seems like the hundredth time. And yet, the sheer magnificence and grandeur of the trilogy never ceases to amaze me. I think I've said this to nearly everyone I've ever talked to about any sort of movie, but this is the first time I'll be putting it in writing: In my opinion, the Lord of the Rings trilogy is the greatest set of movies ever made. You can have your Godfathers and Shawshank Redemptions and Gone With The Winds, but nothing comes close to the jaw-dropping spectacle created so lovingly by Peter Jackson. It's just as well that the 3 LOTR movies together picked up no less than 17 Oscar awards. Just goes to show that the Oscar jury does get it right every once in a while.