L. Subramaniam: In Concert

From one violinist, Laurie Anderson, to another, we turn to the astounding Lakshminarayana Subramaniam, whose Carnatic music from South India is a wonder to hear.  This scintillating live recording from the November 1983 Festival de Lille in France and released by Radio France's Ocora imprint through Harmonia Mundi, includes three tunes, two well over 20 minutes and the other a mere seven, as the master, accompanied by his late wife, Viji (niece of the great Ravi Shankar) on tambura and Varadarao Kamakalar Rao, who died last fall, on mridangam.

Known as "L. Subramaniam," the virtuoso, the son of musicians, was a child prodigy and studied under his father before he was five years old.  An uncle was vocalist Ramnad Krishnan, whose Vidwan album for the Nonesuch Explorer series became a favorite when purchased around 1990, while his brothers were also accomplished musicians, as are the maestro's three children.  He studied medicine and was registered as a general practitioner before turning to music, including advanced study in Western classical music, as his vocation.

He has recorded prolifically and this blogger's first experience with Subramaniam's music was his Karnatic Violin album, also released by Ocora.  The liner notes call him "the Paganini of carnatic music," and, whether referencing a Western violin master is apropos or not, it is also striking that the text says that he "embodies both the serenity of the Indian musician and the magnetism of a Western movie star."  Whatever this means, Subramaniam is quoted as saying that his development was done "unconsciously," though he added that, under his father, "we had a very severe daily routine," even as he stated that he and his siblings could not get enough music despite the intense study.

The master added, "I wanted to return to the sources of carnatic tradition" and "to change the function of the violin, to no longer limit its function to that of accompanying the voice."  Moreover, he set out to widen the range from two or three to five or six octaves and this meant playing longer ragas, so that "that is why I only play two or three compositions during a concert" as this was "much more satisfying. I can get totally immersed in my music."  So do we, as he follows tradition in terms of beginning a piece slowly, expressing themes and then improvising at great length, increasing complexity and expression and at frequently dizzying speed and dazzling proficiency.  In Concert is a stunning exposition of Subramaniam's sublime art within the time-honored Carnatic musical tradition going back thousands of years.