From the S&S archives: 'A cascade of spilled golden nails'

THE FRAGRANCE of incense is heavy in the air. On stage smoke rises in lazy curls through the spotlight beam.

Sitting cross-legged on the red carpet, Ravi Shankar balances the sitar's lower gourd securely between his right thigh and upper right arm. Wrinkles of concentration line the face of the best known Indian musician in the West as he plucks the first notes of a mournful rage.

The four foot sitar comes alive as Shankar's small hands move swiftly over the instruments 19 strings. He strums the six playing strings to create rhythm and melody while the 13 sympathetic strings pick up the vibrations. The combined sound resonates in two gourds producing the sitar's distinct sound.

It's India's most popular music form, a sound which Western critics have described as: "like a cascade of spilled golden nails; the weird, whinning brilliance of a cobra charmer's magic; an improvised tapestry of sound, cries of sadness, chimes of joy, insidious melodies serpenting in microtones between the familiar notes of the Western scale."

THE BEAUTIFUL prose is for music they cannot totally understand since it is so different from Western music.

The music is such an integral part of Indian religion and culture that there it is a spiritual meditating experience. requiring immense concentration. Westerners, however, often find it monotonous and repetitive, leading to a hypnotic sleepness near the end of a concert.

That is not to say Westerners cannot enjoy Indian music, only that it means something different to them than to Indians.

SHANKAR WAS in Frankfurt recently on a European tour, during which he talked about Indian music and his success in the West.

"Music is part of our religion," said Shankar. "there's no doubt that the music itself has a tremendous psychedelic effect."

"Though I understand it," he continued, "I feel a little bit sorry to be appreciated from a wrong angle. It's a go-man-go attitude, not the proper one. Yet I'm not unhappy with your interest in my country's music, even if you misunderstand it."

Ravi Shankar is a small (5 foot 3) gentle man with a traditional Eastern perspective. He speaks with a soft voice and approaches life seriously but with patience.

Educating and enlightening the West about Indian music has been one of his goals for 25 years. Between concert numbers, Shankar frequently lectures simply about Indian music and how it is played on the three major instruments — the sitar, a tuned hand drum called a tabla, and a four-string lute called a tambura.

During concerts when Alla Rakha, who has played with Shankar for years, performs a tabla solo, Shankar counts time "1-2 ... 1-2-3 ... 1-2 ... 1-2-3" for the audiences benefit.

The tabla consists of two small drums which are played with the hands. The tambura, strummed by a young lady, produces the droning-background characteristic of Indian music.

INEVITABLY, Shankar will politely scold anyone who insists on smoking or taking photographs during the performance.

More than one compulsive shutterbug or chain smoker at his concerts turns red with embarrassment as Shankar stares coldly and asks for his cooperation.

His audiences in the West usually include many of Shankar's countrymen living abroad, along with an equal number of local young people. For one group he offers a religious-like experience; for the other a new musical sound. Only someone of Shankar's dual background could bring the two worlds together.

Shankar was born in Benares, India, in 1920. At an early age he moved to France and became a dancer in his brother's traveling troupe.

When 15 he renounced his previous world, shaved his head and retreated with a guru to a small town in central India. There he struggled for 7½ years learning to play the sitar under the instruction of a master. "I was determined," he said, "I started practicing eight hours a day, then 10, then 14."

In 1945 Shankar returned to the West as a soloist. Since then he has divided his time between touring the world and teaching Indian music.

"ONE LIFETIME," he said (at the age of 50), "is not enough to learn how to play the sitar."

The sitar has not changed for 700 years. Mace of teak wood and seasoned gourds, it takes a craftsman about a year to complete one ornate instrument.

Although the music may be written, up to 90 per cent of a number is improvisation. A composition, under a master like Shankar, will wander and explore a theme, while he communicates with the tambura and tabla players with head shakes and smiles.

Since ex-Beatle George Harrison became fascinated with the sitar in 1965, the instrument and Shankar have been an influential force in jazz and pop music.

John Coltrane, Dave Brubeck, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones and the Doors, to mention just a few, have used the sitar in their music.

IRONICALLY, Shankar believes Eastern and Western music cannot mix. "Using raga sound to write pop music," he said, "is like learning the Chinese alphabet in order to write English poems."

Shankar says for pop music the sitar has just been another instrument with a new sound. Yet he recalls, George Harrison was "truly humble," during the eight weeks he studied the sitar with Shankar.

Furthermore, Shankar has little in common with his young fans. "They may be in seventh heaven with their drugs, seeing colors and even God himself," said Shankar, "But they are taking it through a haze. It's not their fault that they are looking for instant karma."

He feels his missionary-like work to bring Indian music to the West is ending.

"The job of educating audiences is almost over," said Shankar. "I don't have to worry about understanding and acceptance. Now I can play as I please."

And it's only 25 years after his first Western concert.