Nishat Khan's ROHM performance is a pathway to the stars
Published: 02:11 PM,Nov 04,2024 | EDITED : 06:11 PM,Nov 04,2024
On Wednesday and Thursday evenings last week, the Royal Opera House of Musical Arts presented Nishat Khan, the internationally acclaimed Sitar virtuoso, performing two stunning and near sell-out concerts. Perhaps an indication that there is appetite for more programmes from leading Indian musicians at ROHM in future?
The tale of two halves opened in traditional North Indian classical vein, with a trio performing two evening ragas in their full breadth of statement and development, but concise enough to hold the interest of the cross-cultural gathering in attendance.
After the meticulous tune-up required of such a multi-stringed instrument, Sitar Maestro Nishat Khan acknowledged what a great honour it was to be in Muscat, and introduced the night’s programme. On tabla he was joined by prodigy of the Farukhabad Gharana, Shariq Mustafa, who shares his grandfather’s stylistic heritage, blended with a contemporary mind-set.
The opening alaap – a slow introduction to the notes of the raag - was brief, soon joined by tabla patterns and electronic tempura – a simple drone accompaniment. After a short Jhor section the mathematical parries and musical puns so beloved in Indian classical music began. Maintaining conspiratorial eye contact, Nishat and Shafiq embarked on their improvisational duel in a conversation both technically breath-taking and amusing. The Maestro betrayed a sense of mischief through facial expression one moment, then developed a heart-warmingly subtle embellishment of a melody with intense pathos the next.
It was gratifying to hear the dynamic range possible in the Sitar solos, contrasting with the frenzied virtuoso finger work leading to perfectly calculated cadences. The Maestro took time to explain the Tintaal – 16-beat tabla pattern - which underlies the structure of this Hindustani improvisation. The result; an hypnotic, mesmerising interaction between the two soloists.
The second Evening Raag portrayed a dark, melancholic alaap section, teasing out the minor quality of the scale. The tabla then emphasised and stressed those plaintive 3rds and semitones until an exciting final Jhalla - with foxy interplay of rhythmic patterns in threes, sometimes three times three, always landing bang on target – brought the first half to a close, along with rapturous applause.
The second half of the evening was devoted to something completely different. Nishat Khan’s First Sitar Concerto, subtitled, ‘Gate of the Moon’, was commissioned for the 2013 BBC Proms, performed in the Royal Albert Hall, London conducted by David Atherton. The interval allowed for complete reorganisation of the stage in preparation for the Belgium-based, European Philharmonia under their founder-conductor, Walter Proost.
Following firmly in the footsteps of his Guru, Ravi Shankar, Nishat set out to compose a Sitar Concerto in Western form using a distinctly Eastern solo instrument at its centre. Its success in achieving an, ‘exchange of stories from two different cultures’ can be considered later.
The first movement opened slowly with pulsing bass-string two-note ostinati, subtly layering the texture until interrupted by startling yet lush tutti chord bursts, like rays of moonlight in the desert. The Sitar as “unknown traveller” made its first appearance with a running scalic solo, fluttering and glittering above interlocking 6-note syncopated patterns from the strings.
The minimalist, Philip Glass-style of passing themes around and building up the texture was compulsive and hypnotic, like listening to the night sky from shifting perspectives. Meanwhile brass and percussion interrupted with profound interjections when so moved. The composition works well as a large orchestral fabric, but how comfortably does the ethereal Sitar sit within that symphonic language? The same might be asked of a guitar concerto. This movement is a lovely, attractive composition, full of the mysterious promise of its programme title in an entrancing sound world.
The second movement began with a bright, up-tempo episode, with Sitar solos at the centre of the dialogue. It nods at a warm, rich romantic language, with snatches of folk dance in a Neo-Classical style, dissolving away at the end.
The final movement opens with a bold brass and percussion fanfare. The soloist takes over with a contrasting melodic line which in turn is picked up by the orchestra, sometimes shouting angry Stravinsky-like objections, sometimes agreeing concordantly. The extended Sitar cadenzas are technically scalic and challenging, finally coming together in a unison frenzy with big, broad tutti chords – and then silence.
The resonant, metallic timbre of the Sitar juxtaposes well with the grounded European instruments, but whether there is a cultural exchange, or clash between opposing sonoric traditions is ultimately for the listener to decide. Judging by the insistent standing ovations received on both nights at ROHMA, it would seem that Omani audiences fall firmly on the side of the former.
The tale of two halves opened in traditional North Indian classical vein, with a trio performing two evening ragas in their full breadth of statement and development, but concise enough to hold the interest of the cross-cultural gathering in attendance.
After the meticulous tune-up required of such a multi-stringed instrument, Sitar Maestro Nishat Khan acknowledged what a great honour it was to be in Muscat, and introduced the night’s programme. On tabla he was joined by prodigy of the Farukhabad Gharana, Shariq Mustafa, who shares his grandfather’s stylistic heritage, blended with a contemporary mind-set.
The opening alaap – a slow introduction to the notes of the raag - was brief, soon joined by tabla patterns and electronic tempura – a simple drone accompaniment. After a short Jhor section the mathematical parries and musical puns so beloved in Indian classical music began. Maintaining conspiratorial eye contact, Nishat and Shafiq embarked on their improvisational duel in a conversation both technically breath-taking and amusing. The Maestro betrayed a sense of mischief through facial expression one moment, then developed a heart-warmingly subtle embellishment of a melody with intense pathos the next.
It was gratifying to hear the dynamic range possible in the Sitar solos, contrasting with the frenzied virtuoso finger work leading to perfectly calculated cadences. The Maestro took time to explain the Tintaal – 16-beat tabla pattern - which underlies the structure of this Hindustani improvisation. The result; an hypnotic, mesmerising interaction between the two soloists.
The second Evening Raag portrayed a dark, melancholic alaap section, teasing out the minor quality of the scale. The tabla then emphasised and stressed those plaintive 3rds and semitones until an exciting final Jhalla - with foxy interplay of rhythmic patterns in threes, sometimes three times three, always landing bang on target – brought the first half to a close, along with rapturous applause.
The second half of the evening was devoted to something completely different. Nishat Khan’s First Sitar Concerto, subtitled, ‘Gate of the Moon’, was commissioned for the 2013 BBC Proms, performed in the Royal Albert Hall, London conducted by David Atherton. The interval allowed for complete reorganisation of the stage in preparation for the Belgium-based, European Philharmonia under their founder-conductor, Walter Proost.
Following firmly in the footsteps of his Guru, Ravi Shankar, Nishat set out to compose a Sitar Concerto in Western form using a distinctly Eastern solo instrument at its centre. Its success in achieving an, ‘exchange of stories from two different cultures’ can be considered later.
The first movement opened slowly with pulsing bass-string two-note ostinati, subtly layering the texture until interrupted by startling yet lush tutti chord bursts, like rays of moonlight in the desert. The Sitar as “unknown traveller” made its first appearance with a running scalic solo, fluttering and glittering above interlocking 6-note syncopated patterns from the strings.
The minimalist, Philip Glass-style of passing themes around and building up the texture was compulsive and hypnotic, like listening to the night sky from shifting perspectives. Meanwhile brass and percussion interrupted with profound interjections when so moved. The composition works well as a large orchestral fabric, but how comfortably does the ethereal Sitar sit within that symphonic language? The same might be asked of a guitar concerto. This movement is a lovely, attractive composition, full of the mysterious promise of its programme title in an entrancing sound world.
The second movement began with a bright, up-tempo episode, with Sitar solos at the centre of the dialogue. It nods at a warm, rich romantic language, with snatches of folk dance in a Neo-Classical style, dissolving away at the end.
The final movement opens with a bold brass and percussion fanfare. The soloist takes over with a contrasting melodic line which in turn is picked up by the orchestra, sometimes shouting angry Stravinsky-like objections, sometimes agreeing concordantly. The extended Sitar cadenzas are technically scalic and challenging, finally coming together in a unison frenzy with big, broad tutti chords – and then silence.
The resonant, metallic timbre of the Sitar juxtaposes well with the grounded European instruments, but whether there is a cultural exchange, or clash between opposing sonoric traditions is ultimately for the listener to decide. Judging by the insistent standing ovations received on both nights at ROHMA, it would seem that Omani audiences fall firmly on the side of the former.