1st interview | 2nd interview | 3rd interview | 4th interview
by T.A. Reddy, MD
T. A. Reddy conducted this interview with David Courtney in April. 2021.
Ananth: It had been almost 15 years since we did the last interview. Since then, much has happened in your life and my life also. I have been now retired for almost 10 years after practicing medicine for 32 years in Midland, TX and underwent health problems and made the big move to Dallas area. You have also undergone some personal health issues, your parents passing and the big flood in Houston and now this COVID-19. In addition to this you made the big move from your old house into a new house in Houston.
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David, I would like to start with a question that pertains to getting back to Tabla practice and playing after several years of gap. While I am practicing, if I experience pain or physical discomfort, I imagine that it may be either related to bad posture or muscle tension. If I am not able to hear the quality of sound that I should be hearing with my practice what are the problems that I should consider?
David: – The first thing that you must look into in such a situation is the quality of your instrument. If you have been out of touch for a few years, it is likely that your instrument has not been maintained. Even if your tabla has been sitting safely in a closet for five years, you cannot just pull it out and expect that it is ready to play. At a minimum it will require tuning, most likely some kind of tightening job, and in in extreme cases, a head replacement.
It is only when you are certain that your instrument is in top shape that you can know that any deficiencies will lie within yourself.
Once you are certain that the deficiencies do lie within yourself, then you need to look at several things. The first thing to look at is your technique. Is your technique correct? Incorrect technique can cause pain in anyone at any age.
But the question of “correct technique” is a thorny one. There is a tendency among many teachers to declare the technique of other teachers, especially those of different gharanas, to be incorrect.
This isn’t helpful!
I believe that when looking at technique, there are three things to consider: physics, physiology, and kinesiology. Specifically this refers to how things work, how our bodies work, and how we move. It is only when we consider an intended technique to be compatible with all three considerations is it worth pursuing.
Next we need to consider why we are unable to master it; for this we need to look at our practice regimen. Are we practicing enough? Is our practice regimen well thought out? Do we have some personal impediment that needs to be either overcome or worked around? Obviously, this is where the guidance of the guru is important.
Ananth: What is the significance of Khali in the Indian Classical Music. Generally, the Khali is in the middle of an Avartan in Teen tal, and more than one Khali in Ektal and asymmetrically located in Rupak etc., Sum indicates the union of the percussionist / rhythm with the vocalist or strings, but what is the practical application of the khali for the percussionist. How can a tabla player indicate the taali if it is not distinct from other bols. For example, in teen taal and Dadra, khali is placed on the 9th and 4th beat which is a Dha, like any other Dhas in the first two vibhags.
David: – This question is a bit problematic. It reflects a common confusion of unconnected concepts.
Khali has three unrelated meanings.
Let us first turn our attention to the etymology of the word. The word “khali” variously means “empty”, “blank”, or “unoccupied”. This can be applied to the theory and practice of tabla in several very different ways.
One usage of the term “khali” refers to the clapping and waving of the hands. Systems of timekeeping have a hoary past where it was often referred to as “kriya”. In the contemporary classical system of timekeeping, every measure (bar, or vibhag) is specified by either a clap of the hand or a wave of the hand. In this system, the claps are referred to as “tali”, while the waving of the hand is referred to as “khali”. In this usage, the term khali may be in reference to the fact that the hand contains nothing in it, or it may refer to the fact that the vibhag is devoid of a clap. I have heard both explanations proposed.
There is another meaning of khali that refers to bols (syllables). These may be bols of a single stroke (e.g., Taa, Tin) or bol expressions (e.g., TiRiKiTa, TiTa, Taa-TiTaKiDaNaaKa). In this case, they are bols which have an absence of any resonant left hand.
There is still a third meaning of the term khali. This is in reference to compositional theory. According to many traditions, the second iteration of any pattern in the performance of the kaida is referred to as the “khali”. This usage of the term “khali” is very common, but not universal.
The student should realise that these are three distinct concepts. One tends to find a loose correlation between them, but believing that there should be some inherent link sets the student up for confusion.
One should not conflate these different definitions of “khali”.
Ananth: In your books you mention cyclical and cadential words a lot. Can you please explain in simple terms their importance in Hindustani classical music for the student?
David: – All compositions in tabla fall into one of two categories. They either include the sam as a termination or they do not. This creates a very different math for the two.
The situation is easily illustrated by two analogies.
Let us start with cyclical material. This is material that does not terminate on the sam. The math is such that this material can be played continuously without modification, and still maintain the correct number of beats. Examples of this are the theka, prakar, kaida, rela, and laggi.
This is analogous to the math behind the sari. If we consider the sari to be an even 6 yards, then it takes 12 yards to make 2 saris, 18 yards to make three saris, etc. This may seem obvious, but not everything follows this pattern.
The cadential material works on a totally different math. This is because such compositions must include the sam as a termination. Examples of cadential forms are the mukhada, tihai, and chakradar. Such material cannot be played repetitively unless the structure is altered in some way. Attempting to do so will produce an incorrect number of beats.
The math behind the cadential form is the same as that of a picket fence. Let us say that we wish to make a 10 foot picket fence that has 1 picket per foot. To do this, we need 11 pickets. (Remember, there must be a picket to terminate this fence.) In this scenario, a 20-foot fence requires 21 pickets, a 30-foot fence requires 31 pickets, etc.
The math behind the two approaches leaves nothing in between. Tabla material must be one or the other.
Ananth: Is there a pure Gharana style of playing anymore or is it a mixture of east and west gharanas these days.
David: – This is an interesting question, but one which conflates the concepts of “baj” and “gharana”. A gharana is determined by the lineage (parampara) of one’s teachers. However the term “baj” refers to the style of playing.
Historically, the two were linked. Different gharanas developed and specialised in particular bajs. However in the last hundred years or so, both the concepts of baj and gharana have been weakened, or at least subject to reinterpretation.
There are six widely accepted gharanas of tabla. These are Dilli (Delhi), Farukhabad, Benares, Ajrada, Punjab, and Lucknow. One occasionally hears of people claiming to be from other gharanas, but these are not broadly acknowledged.
The gharanas were inextricably linked to the system of royal patronage. Here in lies the basic problem. Starting with the suppression of the Uprising of 1857, and culminating in the elimination of the principalities soon after Independence, royal patronage eroded then disappeared entirely. With the elimination of the gharana’s raison d’etre, the gharana became mere cultural curiosity, a relic of the past if you will.
Theses gharanas specialised in particular styles of playing, these were known as as “baj”. Unlike the number of gharanas which has been fixed by convention, there is no universally accepted number of bajs. Probably the most common approach is to look at the styles of playing as being two; the Dilli baj and the Purbi baj. One should also consider the pakhawaj style as a baj. However since a pure pakhawaj style is very rare and is not really a tabla style, we can leave it out of our discussion.
The Dilli baj, derives its name from the area around Dilli (Delhi). It is one that is very controlled. It uses an intricate interplay in the fingers; however the preponderance of playing is with the index and the middle finger. On the positive side, this style of playing is characterised by great flexibility, speed, and delicacy. On the negative side, it can at times feel weak and unimpressive. It is interesting to note that what is usually considered to be the “Dilli baj” today is actually a fusion of the traditional Dilli style with the Ajrada styles of playing.
In contrast to the Dilli baj, there is the Purbi baj. “Purbi” mean “Eastern”. As the name indicates, this style was the specialty of the Eastern gharanas. These were Benares, Lucknow, and Farukhabad. This style has a large influence of the pakhawaj. The advantage of this approach is that it is powerful and impressive. The disadvantage is that it has less flexibility than the Dilli baj. Furthermore the “power” of this style can at times be tiresome, both to the performer as well as the listener. It should also be noted that, like the dilli baj, the Purbi baj is also not homogenous for historically the “Purbi gharanas” had significant differences.
The key word throughout the last discussion is “historically”. Today the various bajs are to a great extent dissociated from the gharana. This dissociation is due to numerous reasons. The weakening of the gharana system coupled with the more catholic tastes of audiences means that an artist must show proficiency in all of the styles in order to be successful. This is the norm today.
Therefore to answer your question, it is possible to find an artist who only plays the compositions and style of a particular gharana; but this brings up the uncomfortable question as to “why”. There can only be two reasons. It must either be ignorance or stubbornness. Neither of which is likely to help a musician’s career.
Ananth: Why is there is so much variance in teaching and playing the particularly important bols such as: Tin, Tun and TiRaKiTa amongst teachers.
David: – The answer to this is connected to the previous discussion of baj and gharana.
In the 18th and 19th centuries, each gharana had its own pedagogic tradition concerning its “taleem”. This worked well within the socio-musical context of the time.
But the field of tabla has broadened far beyond what anyone could have foreseen. Today’s field is made up of different bajs from different gharanas that have all fused together. Additionally, there are styles and techniques from folk, film, and even Western sources.
Teaching any subject which is a variegated as this has obvious challenges. One cannot teach a beginner the entire subject all at one time, so teachers confine themselves to a small subset and start with that. But different teachers adopt different subsets. Furthermore, every teacher has their own way of approaching this material.
Therefore, it is only natural that the teaching of tabla, with all of its myriad of possibilities, will vary considerably from one teacher to another.
I think that this is a good thing.
Ananth: In simple terms, what are the basic differences between a Mukada, Mohra, Tukada and Laggi structurally and functionally.
David: – This is a good question. Let me preface my answer by saying that the definitions of these forms is subject to a degree of debate due to a lack of consensus among performing musicians.
That being said, we need to separate the laggi from the rest of the list. This is the only one that is a cyclical form rather than a cadential form.
The word “laggi” is derived from the word “lagna”. This word has a myriad of meanings, but within this context it means to put feeling into one’s performance.
But from the standpoint of compositional theory, it has a more specific meaning. The laggi is a very fast assertion on the part of the tabla player in a lighter styles of playing. This usually means dadra or kaherva, but it isn’t specific to any particular tal. The laggi is often considered to be light music’s counterpart of the rela. This is the extent of what we can say concerning laggi that will have any broad acceptance.
There are those who may add a variety of other stipulations to this definition. One common one suggests that the laggi uses a lot of open bolls in phrases such as “Dhaa Tun Na Na”. However there does not seem to be a broad consensus on this point.
Mukhada, mohara, and thukada, on the other hand are cadential forms. Of these, the mukhada is one of the most fundamental.
The term “mukhada” literally means “face”. This etymology seems confusing until we remember that in the performance of a bada kheyal (the extremely slow movement), the section that occupies the few beats at the end of the cycle culminating on the sam, is known as a mukhada. Therefore any short passage that culminates on the sam is known as a mukhada.
This definition leaves a tremendous scope for interpretation. We know that it should be less than a cycle, but are there any other considerations? It seldom contains a tihai. However this may not be a defining feature of the mukhada, but rather a reflection of the fact that the extremely short length of the mukhada generally precludes any form of a tihai.
This brings us to the tukhada; this is is also an extremely common form for tabla. The term literally means a “piece”.
It s a smallish piece which is used to culminate on the sam. Furthermore it will be performed in a high speed. This is the only thing that we can say which will be widely accepted.
Beyond that we can only make general observations. It will be a minimum of one cycle in duration, but in all likelihood not more than four cycles. One to two cycles seems to be about average. It will almost always be based upon a two-part structure. The first of which is a body, while the second section will be a tihai; this structure is so common that it is tempting to declare this as a defining feature.
There is a considerable debate as to what degree bols define the tukhada. One will not find an extensive use of pakhawaj bols, for this would make it a paran. The preponderance of material uses bols which are non-resonant bol expressions (e.g., TiTa, TiReKiTa, TiRaTiRaKiDaNaKa). Many suggest that this is a defining characteristic of the thukada. However, one need not look far to find examples based upon resonant bols (e.g., Dha-TiTaGiDaNaGa, DhiRaDiRaGiDaNaGa). This is just another area where there is much disagreement.
This brings our discussion to the mohara. This is less common than either tukhada or mukhada. The etymology of the term “mohara” is very clear; it means the “vangard of the army”. In this capacity it also means a pawn in the game of chess.
Unfortunately there is no broadly accepted definition of “Mohara”. To make things more complicated, there is no mohara that cannot arguably be placed in another category (e.g., tukhada, utthan).
There are only a few observations that we can make with certainty. The first observation is is that the mohara cannot be less than one cycle. They usually contain a tihai. Furthermore, the structures of the mohara are often quite unusual, sometimes even appearing to start on a tihai. This makes the mohara one of the least predictable forms.
But there is confusion about the exact definition. The most likely cause of the confusion stems from the fact that the mohara seems to be defined more by its function rather than its structure. As the name implies, it is a piece which is used to introduce something else. That is to say that if one is going to begin a section, one may lead off with the mohara. This fits in nicely with the etymology of the term “mohara”, and explains the overlap with other compositional forms.
Ananth: Is the concept of “Chilla” for real in today’s world?
David: – Chilla is a very interesting concept. The word “chilla” is derived from the Persian word “chehel” which means “forty”. Chilla refers to a religious practice of removing oneself from society, and spending forty days in fasting and meditation. This is found among Shia Muslims, especially those with Sufi inclinations, but it is culturally compatible with various practices of tapasya common in Hinduism.
As far as music students are concerned it implies withdrawing from society for a period of forty days to completely immerse oneself in practice.
I do feel that it has an applicability even today. However given the demands of today’s life, it is obviously far less practical than it was in past centuries.
Ananth: Arrival of the Covid–19 pandemic has turned peoples’ lives upside down throughout the world. As a musician, what did you notice and what adjustments did you make in your music profession?
David: – Yes, the COVID-19 pandemic changed things profoundly.
The first thing to disappear was live performances. From March 2020 until today (April; 2021), I have not given a live performance. I received only three requests for performances over the last year, and turned them down. I am 67 years old and it was necessary for me to be careful. I am starting to accept engagements for the coming months, but I have not yet started.
Another major change was in teaching. All of my classes have shifted online. Initially I saw no advantages to this, only disadvantages. However, after working with this for over a year, I see that it does have a place. But I would not recommend it as a complete replacement for live instruction.
The upending of my life did have another positive effect. It allowed me to complete another book. “Elementary North Indian Vocal: Vol. 2” is just a few days away from being released. I expect that by the time people are actually reading this, it will have been out for a while.
Ananth: Is tabla accompaniment a thankless job basically?
David: – I am reminded of an old joke:
“What do you call a person who likes to hang around musicians?”
“The drummer.”
But in all seriousness, I do not know if I would call it “thankless”. It certainly has its own qualities and it, like all musical instruments it attracts certain personalities.
As far as public appreciation, it is certainly much better than it was a century ago, so I am not sure that one can complain.
So to answer your question directly, it is an unambiguous “yes and no” 🙂
Ananth: Finally, what is your opinion about the examination as a measure of a student’s skills gained during a specific period of learning.
David: – It too has its place. The process has gone a long way in bringing a modicum of standardisation to a field that has been plagued by a lack of formal structure.
Ananth: Thank you David.