Brothers in arms

The New Sunday Express, Suresh Menon, June 24, 2001

When the audience at the Royal Albert Hall rose as one to salute two of India’s greatest singers, K.J.Yesudas and S.P.Balasubrahmaniam, they were also paying tribute to one of the most enduring friendships in music.  Balasubrahmaniam had begun the concert saying “It is a rare honour to share the stage with the genius Yesudas.”

“He is my younger brother,” Yesudas says of Balasubrahmaniam (or simply, SPB) who calls him ‘Dasanna’.  They have recorded nearly 70,000 songs between them, with SPB finding mention in the Guinness Book of World Records as the artiste with the most number of recordings.

The two friends, accompanied by Chithra and Vijay Yesudas, the son, were singing to a mixed audience at the 130 year old venue.  Those who couldn’t understand the lyrics were charmed by the voices; those who were present a couple of days earlier when Mark Knopfler sang Brothers in Arms saw the actualization of the concept as the singers displayed unalloyed joy at each other’s efforts.

“He is a wonderfully versatile singer, and I have the highest respect for him.  There is nothing Balu cannot do,” extols Yesudas.  “We first did a concert together some three years ago, and since then we have done a few abroad.  He has said that if he spends six months with me I will teach him classical music enough for him to do a concert.  I don’t need to ‘teach’ him; he just needs to concentrate on classical music.  The keertanas will come easily to him since they are in his language, Telugu.”

Those who have heard SPB sing the title song of Sankarabharanam know this to be true.  Sankara.. he began at the Royal Albert to evoke that moment, hitting the note with the kind of effortless ease that only the truly great can muster.  This was perfection, till Yesudas showed how it could be done with Kannamoochi…from Kandukondain, Kandukondain.  It was even better than the original.  The classicist and the spontaneous improviser, the Apollo and the Dionysius of Indian music approached perfection through different routes.

And when Yesudas crooned the finest lullaby in Tamil, Kanne Kalaimane, SPB was on his feet to tell the audience this was indeed the finest.  “This is one of my favourite songs,” he revealed.  “My favourite Balu song (I have many favourites) is Malare, mounama…,” Yesudas was to say later.

Mala Nair, the Director of Kerala International, promoters of the concert at the Royal Albert Hall, put it well when she said, “They are great in different ways.”

But there is one similarity.  In both cases, greatness is accompanied by humility.  Both singers see their talent as god-given and cannot stop marveling at the fact that they are the chosen ones.

Forty years ago, when Yesudas first appeared on the scene, he had a voice, some training, and little else.  He faced rejection on many fronts.  He has not forgotten his roots, and the what-might-have-beens.  SPB, at 55, five years younger, was academically bright, and had to choose between a career in engineering and one in music.  He is conscious that unlike painters and writers, singers need an audience in the act of creation.

“We give breath to someone else’s lyrics set to music by a second person… we perform for you,” he told the audience which cheered this burst of honesty.  He also drew out applause for the great composers like M.S.Vishwanathan and lyricists like Vairamuthu.

Temperamentally the singers are different too.  SPB loves to talk to the audience, occasionally cracks jokes, turns around to give the orchestra its cue, and generally gives the impression of enjoying himself.  That enjoyment quickly communicates itself to the audience.  “I love to improvise,” he had told the leader of the orchestra during practice the previous day.  Don’t worry about me; I will come back on track.”  Yesudas believes that “all the movement must be in the throat.”  An occasional jerk of the shoulder, a snapping of the fingers, that’s his limit.

But he was clearly enjoying himself too, from the first note of Anpukku naan adimay, which he first sang in 1977.  “I have nothing against those who get physical when they sing.  It’s just not my style,” he says.  “My son moves around and tries to get the audience involved.  That’s him.  This is me.”

The Englishmen in the audience hardly noticed the differences.  “Gosh, these two use their voices like instruments,” gushed one.  A couple in the row beside me kept time to the music and wore smiles that said more than words can.  They were swaying testimony to what both Yesudas and Balasubrahmaniam emphasized throughout the evening.  “The language of music is universal.”

It must have been difficult to keep up with the languages though, as the singers sang in Tamil, Hindi, Malayalam, Telugu and Kannada.  There was even a lilting song composed in a folk tongue that had the audience tapping its feet.”

“We will release both video and audio tapes of the show,” said Mala Nair whose mother Subhadra is one of Yesudas’s oldest friends, the two having studied together in the music college.

How much have the voices changed?  In the sixties songs, Yesudas had a vulnerability that was charming; when he sang Aayiram padasarangal… from Nadi, the audience paid him the tribute of a moment’s total silence before applauding.  From vulnerability to mastery seemed a short step.

Both sang recent songs too, and looked as comfortable doing so.  And when they were given a standing ovation, and were forced to take a couple of curtain calls in the sustained applause, the two friends were happy as much for themselves as for each other.  “It was pure music,” Yesudas said later.  Yes, and pure friendship too.