Review by M. V. Ramana, Published in KALA

Like most things about the late Vidwan S. Balachander, this solo recording, with no accompanists, is also grand and somewhat larger than life. Not many other musicians would devote a full C.D. to just one raga, especially a relatively minor one like Malahari. It is to Balachander’s credit that he took up the challenge involved in elaborating a raga at such length and for demonstrating that it is not necessary to pepper a recording with a dozen compositions to maintain the listener’s interest. I wish more musicians – and recording companies, who perhaps deserve more of the blame – would follow this lead.

Despite being the raga that is almost universally the first raga that a Karnatic musician begins her or his lessons with (most people would recognize Purandaradasa's gitam, Sri Gananatha which many start with the line lambodara lagumikara), Malahari has received very little attention from latter day composers. Nor is it often heard in concerts, and treated perfunctorily when it is. The raga is a janya of Mayamalavagaula. Its arohana and avarohana are: s r m p d s and s d p m g r s. Thus, purely in terms of the scale, it is very close to Saveri which includes the nishada while descending. But when treated as full-fledged ragas, incorporating characteristic gamakas make them quite different. The most characteristic differences in terms of notes are in the rishabha and dhaivata. Saveri's rishabha is very flat; the late Sabesa Iyer is said to have punned on the name of the raga to explain this by terming it Sa ve ri, which, in Tamil, means sa itself is ri. In more technical terms, the rishabha is very close to the ekasruti rishabha than the dvisruti rishabha characteristic of the janaka raga. Likewise, the dhaivata is also the ekasruti dhaivata; in fact, while playing on the veena, it is common to play this note on the panchama fret. Malahari, on the other hand, only uses the dvisruti rishabha and dhaivata. Apart from these notes, the main difference between Malahari and Saveri is in the profusion of gamakas used in Saveri. The gamakas used are: jaru (or slides), kampita (oscillation), orikkai (a momentary flick, at the end of the principle tone, to a higher tone), and nokku (stress from above on successive note). Malahari on the other hand, uses gamakas sparingly; the notes are mostly plain.

Balachander starts his exposition with a magnificent and intricate Alapana and Tanam. Displaying remarkable technical virtuosity and power, he reveals how Malahari is capable of elaboration and embellishment. One striking feature of the performance is how Balachander revels in creating wonderful patterns with note combinations of different lengths. Given the length of the performance, there are parts that seem a bit repetitive, but that is essential to the exploratory process. The Alapana and Tanam are followed by Muthuswami Dikshitar’s Panchamatanga mukha in Rupaka tala, followed by a pleasant swaraprastara around the pallavi line. As with several other ragas that were going out of vogue during his day and age, Malahari was resurrected by Dikshitar through this magnificent composition. One minor crib I have with Balachander’s handling of this piece is in not adopting a sufficiently slow tempo that would be more appropriate to and characteristic of Dikshitar’s compositions.

The CD notes are – unfortunately for me and, I imagine, most readers – in Japanese. However, that is only a minor problem and can be ignored. The larger service that the recording company has performed is in providing the space for this great musician to reveal what he is capable of. The recording exemplifies several traits emblematic of Balachander – his technical excellence, his great manodharma, his grip on laya, his obsession with detail and last, but not least, his adventurous spirit (as those who have heard his intense 45 raga concerts featuring only alapanas could testify). These are, or should be, virtues that musicians would benefit by trying to inculcate and listeners would, or should, enjoy.