‘What makes something classical?’ Aditya Prakash on perceptions of traditional Indian classical music
Aditya Prakash
Thursday, October 5, 2023
Ahead of the release of his debut solo album, Prakash reflects on his understanding of the concept of ‘classical’ and how it relates to the Karnatik music he performs, arguing that a word so steeped in preconception can present a barrier to enjoying this ‘special sonic experience’
![©Adam Kissick/APAP](/media/245051/optimized-ape-at-joes-pub-2-pc-adam-kissick_apap.jpg?&width=780&quality=60)
I am a product of my environment; I was raised in a house filled with Karnatik music and in the multivarious cultural environment that is Los Angeles. The sounds of Western classical, jazz, rock, metal and hip hop – as well as many other styles of music – have found their way into my musical subconscious. But the launching point for any musical exploration of mine has always been Karnatik music, so I will start from there.
From the outset, I acknowledge that my relation to the concept of ‘classical music’ is through Karnatik music, the ‘classical’ music of South India, and so I do not intend to comment on Western classical music.
Prakash examines his shattered notions of classical music’s ‘refinement, purity and lineage’ © Jean Louis Fernandez
Today, as a practitioner of Karnatik music, I have a different understanding of what ‘classical’ means than I did just a few years ago. But I’ll start with what I used to think of when I heard the word classical: ancient, refined, pure, challenging, technical, rigorous, repertoire, historic. As a classical musician, I prided myself on these descriptions. But today, I have had to reconsider my use of the word ‘classical’. I owe that to musician, author, and researcher TM Krishna, a brilliant mind who has prompted me, through both his mentorship and his comprehensive book on Karnatik music and its history, to re-examine the term ‘classical'.
What makes something classical? Is it an aesthetic construct? What is the sound of something classical? I wonder if the great composers of Karnatik music – Purandaradasa, Thyagaraja, Dikshitar, Shyama Shastri – would consider the music they wrote to be ‘classical’? In conversations with fellow musicians from the Western classical world, they wonder the same about composers like Bach and Mozart too.
"I have had to reconsider my use of the word ‘classical’"
So what makes something aesthetically ‘classical’? Let's go back to the initial associations I listed earlier:
I will start with ‘ancient.’ Generally speaking, we believe Karnatik music is thousands of years old; it is passed down from master to disciple and there is a thread of connectivity to the present day. However, Karnatik music as we know it today is vastly different in sound, texture, phraseology and even intention than it has been at other points in time. It has changed throughout the course of history and will continue to do so. The idea of something being an ‘eternal constant’ is a comforting notion for us Karnatik practitioners because it validates the music as a pure and untainted truth, a connection to a divine past. However, the only constant truth is that things are constantly changing and Karnatik music is not exempt from this.
'To paint Karnatik music as uncomplicatedly ‘pure’ is problematic – it is messy and complex just like all human things are.'
There is proof that the aural texture of certain ragas (melodic motifs) that we consider ‘traditional,’ ‘heavy’ and ‘authentically classical’ sounded vastly different 200-300 years ago. My mentors dug up a manuscript from 1904 containing notations delineating the structure of a common raga that we sing today. It was fascinating to hear how different (and unpleasantly discordant) it sounded to my ear; it showed me that the sound and aesthetic of Karnatik music has changed so much in just 100 years, almost to the point that it wouldn’t be considered Karnatik music by today’s standards. So how true is it to say that Karnatik music is ‘thousands of years old’? Yes, it has ancient ties, but that does not make the music itself ancient.
"I wonder if the great composers of Karnatik music – Purandaradasa, Thyagaraja, Dikshitar, Shyama Shastri – would consider the music they wrote to be ‘classical’?"
The idea that classical music evokes notions of ‘refinement’, ‘purity’ and ‘lineage’ cannot be denied, but even this notion is shattered when we attempt to look at history in an unbiased way. We have to accept that Karnatik music has an oppressive history involving the erasure of a community of hereditary artists who practiced, developed and thrived on Karnatik music.
If we look at the majority of Karnatik music practitioners and performing artists today, it is strange that almost none of the hereditary community practitioners are on main stages or even in music classrooms. Instead, Karnatik music is almost entirely practiced by one community. Here, by the word ‘community,’ I am talking about caste. The Brahmin caste (considered an upper caste, and which I belong to) are now the dominant practitioners of the artform; but where are the original hereditary practitioners who do not belong to this caste? The decline of non-Brahmin Karnatik practitioners has not happened by chance, and there is research to prove their erasure.
"The word ‘classical’ in all forms of music serves as more of a hierarchical tool, than an aesthetic one"
Personally, this shattered my notions of classical music’s ‘refinement, purity and lineage.’ The idea of ‘purity’ is problematic because removes nuance from our understanding of the history of Karnatik music. Artists, musicians and composers who contributed to the body of this music are humans after all (although many practitioners consider some composers untouchable Gods), and humans exhibit complexity, desire, jealousy, greed, just as much as they practice love, devotion, passion, generosity and compassion. To paint Karnatik music as uncomplicatedly ‘pure’ is problematic – it is messy and complex just like all human things are.
All in all, the word ‘classical’ in all forms of music serves as more of a hierarchical tool, than an aesthetic one. For convenience, we sometimes refer to Karnatik music as ‘South Indian classical,’ but I prefer to just say I practice ‘Karnatik music – one of the many beautiful forms of music from South India.’
If you have not yet heard Karnatik music, the only prerequisite is that you listen with an open ear and an open mind. It is a special sonic experience that I feel privileged to study and share, but that doesn’t give it the right to be placed on a higher status than other forms of Indian music because of the ‘classical’ tag. Once we remove all the baggage surrounding the word ‘classical,’ then it is truly universal and open to all.
Aditya Prakash's new debut solo album ISOLASHUN, which explores both classical and world music will be released on 13 October with New Amsterdam Records