The violence committed on music and art in general by the advent of streaming services, is an issue that requires little introduction. In a previous piece, I had written about arguably the biggest Goliath in question, Spotify; the effects the app and its competitors have had on trends in consumption and the music industry at large as consequence, are dire at best and hopeless at worst. Over time, exacerbated by interaction-farming gimmicks like Spotify Wrapped, music has been brought down to an affair of statistics, a process that had admittedly been started with the advent of charts like Billboard. Moreover, streaming sites have increasingly started to transition themselves towards platforms not motivated by fair dissemination of music, but by opening themselves up as social media sites where music is reduced to the crudeness of conspicuous consumption insofar it is seen by users as a tool of indulgent self-fashioning.
Nostalgia is a hell of a drug, especially when helped by deteriorating circumstances. Pondering on the gravity of the situation often leads one to think of times when albums were seen as definitive works of art—when the toil and tumult of artists were actually reciprocated in kind by listeners. In this vein, let us look at ten independent albums from the country that left their mark before the full-fledged advent of what is known as streaming culture. The temporal threshold is set at 2015, by when streaming, although a reality, had not sunk its roots enough to affect production and reception as egregiously as it does now. Without further ado, here they are, in no particular order:
1.Kandisa by Indian Ocean
Indian Ocean as a band needs no introduction, their craft and diligence having made them a household name in the country. Largely responsible for pioneering a sound in India which blends elements of Western Rock with Indian Classical instrumentation, the Delhi-based band is indispensable in conversations about India’s place in global music. Released in 2000, Kandisa is potently emblematic of their ethos; a host of global influences are permeated through steadfastly Hindustani vocals, redefining in the process every conservative notion of what an “Indian sound” should be at all.
2. Jhora Samayer Gaan by Mohiner Ghoraguli
Mohiner Ghoraguli is one of those bands whose fames sadly and unfairly constrict itself to its locales. While the Indian popular imagination runs unaware, people of Bengal and ardent listeners across the country are aware of the Kolkata-based band’s irrefutable contribution to the city’s folk movement. Spearheaded by Gautam Chattopadhyay’s colloquial lyrics and a fervent sonic imagination, Jhora Samayer Gaan acts as an honest condensation of the band’s Baul and Western Folk influences, delivering a note that would act as a drawing board for generations of musicians to follow.
3. Earthgazing by Until We Last
Bangalore-based band Until We Last is basically unheard of in mainstream circles. Started by Ketan Bahirat in his bedroom, Until We Last were a four-piece post-rock boyband, whose meteoric lifetime was as bright as it was brief. Earthgazing, a four-song Bandcamp-exclusive EP, stands as the band’s only official release. Using a blend of earthy sounds complimented by Western instruments—heavily the electric guitar—Until We Last evoke an extraordinary soundscape that is cosmic yet cacophonous, making them a truly unique experience.
4. Till You Appear by Sulk Station
Tanvi Rao and Rahul Giri’s project, Sulk Station, is another outfit on this list that seems to enjoy a sort of cult status. Based out of Bangalore, it has been four years since any activity by the band; predominantly working in the delta of Electronic and Ambient music, Sulk Station’s music has acquired them enough critical acclaim to be considered as one of the most definitive sounds of the country. Sulk Station dream with their music, but it is an exercise contrived and controlled with the utmost of care; Till You Appear is a bilingual album, its hypnotic trance being situative of the band’s unmistakable credo.
5. Baran by Parvaaz
Based in Bangalore, Parvaaz’s enduring legacy has earned the band entry into the country’s scene as a prized jewel of the city. Their debut LP, Baran, is the band’s magnum opus; operating with elements as polar as Rock, and Ghazal, the band found a sweet spot amidst their influences, and use Hindustani as their primary songwriting channel. With a hard-earned acclaim that enjoys little contention, Parvaaz have grown to amass a listenership that appreciates the band’s inimitability across borders. Melancholic and instrumental, Baran references rain not just titularly, but also using elemental Post-Rock sound effects, creating a sound as expansive as the band’s repute.
6. What Colour Is Your Raindrop by Tajdar Junaid
Known for his contribution to theatre as much as music, multi-instrumentalist Tajdar Junaid released What Colour Is Your Raindrop, which would turn out to be a fresh breakaway from his work scoring films. Armed with his ukulele and a range of string instruments, Junaid’s work on What Colour Is Your Raindrop is mellow and meditative, and its predominant stress on instrumentation helps to construct a sense of cohesiveness that binds the colloquial album.
7. Mumblings by Ditty
Aditi Veena, going by Ditty, has by now created a particular niche for her grounded, earthy, and environmentally conscious music, bolstered by her album Poetry Ceylon. Her humble beginnings however, were much closer to home, as the listener discovers in Mumblings. Holding for inspiration mostly her family, including her late father and her brother, Mumblings etch the beginnings of a prolific songwriter in personal domesticity, nudged by a sound whose bareness underscores the album’s sing-song poetics.
8. Gadha by Chandrabindoo
Chandrabindoo in the context of the independent art scene in Kolkata can be considered beyond a boyband, as a sort of cultural phenomenon. While their first album was not exactly a commercial success, it caught the discerning attention of Gautam Chattopadhyay of Mohiner Ghoraguli, and with his guiding patronage, Gadha—the band’s second album—was born, released by Asha Audio. Considered as one of the band’s definitive albums besides Juju, Gadha is a bejeweled example of Chandril Bhattacharya’s inimitable lyricism, garnering for the band a slew of critical and popular acclaim, the kind of which was unprecedented in the city of joy’s effervescent zeitgeist, and endures still, evergreen after two decades.
9. Dhoom by Euphoria
Led by the ubiquitous Palash Sen, Euphoria took the country by storm at the fag end of the 90-s, bursting onto the scene with unequivocally positive reactions from the country. Predominantly a Rock band, Euphoria flourished with their frontman’s contagious flair and showmanship; their debut album, Dhoom, is technically bilingual, but its nascence into English from Hindi was integral in capturing the pulse of the urban-educated of the country, and its catchy tunes remain to this day a glimpse into an India that jumped headfirst into recreating and redefining its soundscape.
10. Sunoh by Lucky Ali
It is fitting to end this list with Lucky Ali, a name whose familiarity in the popular psyche only enforces the artist’s perennial cultural legacy. The artist’s most famous hit, “O Sanam”, is from his debut album—Sunoh—which more or less cemented his footing in the country’s music scene. Since then, Ali has accumulated a mainstream status, even extending to stints in Bollywood; Sunoh is an escape to the inception of the icon, whose music and performance have defined generations and continue to do so.
While it is important to underline the disastrous results of streaming, it must also be acknowledged that the problem lies less in the medium than in those monopolising it. Streaming as a concept was meant to democratise music in terms of access, both at production and consumption levels. Even a cursory look at the list provided here amply highlights the hegemonic gender disparity that had been at play, which is but a reflection of the history of the male-dominated music industry at a global level (Lopamudra Mitra’s contribution to Chandrabindoo, for example, is rarely talked of). Platforms like ReverbNation and SoundCloud innately are about democratising music, where all one needs to put themself out there is simply upload. The advent of streaming has been a welcome shift to a plethora of female musicians in India to produce and release their music, without the requirement of a label release. But of course, as always, like the end of a Scooby-Doo episode, the big bad villain beneath the mask remains capitalism. As a capitalist system must adapt itself to perpetuate its status quo, streaming was co-opted and reoriented to be yet another corollary of a dying network. The way back to preserving music and art as we know them, obviously, lies in unionising, which shall inevitably lead to commensurate pay and regulation. As consumers are pushed to buy music, platforms like SoundCloud should operate independently as sites where music and its visibility are not discriminated on the basis of statistics; conversely, the importance of a platform like Bandcamp is indescribable, which acts as the face of consumer-artist transparency in terms of compensation. Resistance and regulation alone can return streaming back to its initial ethos, where the point of banalising art situated itself in politics of access, not reduction and dehumanisation.
Earthgazing, Till You Appear, What Colour Is Your Raindrop and Mumblings are all available on Bandcamp, and their links have been provided. Please consider purchasing.
