The contemporary version of "Vande Mataram", released by Veecon Music and Entertainment, is composed by renowned percussionist Bickram Ghosh.

"My version of 'Vande Mataram' is introspective and philosophical. It is the national song woven into a new melody 64 years after independence. It is not a song of uprising as was the mainstay of the original song. I've created a melody straight from my heart and the finest of India's artists have executed it," Ghosh said in a statement.

Apart from Niigaam, Mahadevan and Chauhan, the new rendition has singers Shaan, Shubha Mudgal, Roop Kumar Rathod, Mahalakshmi Iyer, Ustad Rashid Khan, Pandit Ajoy Chakraborty, Kaushiki Desikan, Manoj Tiwari, Palash Sen, and popular band Indian Ocean.

Musicians who have played instruments for it include Kamal Sabri (sarangi), Niladri Kumar (sitar), Ganesh and Kumaresh (violins), Pandit Ronu Majumdar (flute), Rajhesh Vaidhya (veena), besides of course Khan (sarod), Bhatt (mohanveena) and Ghosh (tabla, kanjeera, percussions).

Ghosh says the experience has been "enriching", and hopes it infuses a sense of patriotism in the citizens.

"I hope people find this 'Vande Mataram' inspiring and feel proud to be Indian. This song is an ode to our India, the India of the times we live in. The India of today is strong, serene and beautiful. I hope the song makes you feel that," said Ghosh, a day ahead of the Republic Day.

A video for the song has been shot for the song as well, says J.K. Srivastava.

"It fills my heart with joy and pride to present to you the finest album based on India's national song as our tribute to our motherland," said Srivastava.

"Besides bringing together a diverse ensemble of India's leading music icons, we have shot the video using as many as 24 different grand sets spread all over India, making it very vibrant and colourful. By bringing together the genius of artists from across the country, our edition of 'Vande Mataram' truly reflects India's 'unity in diversity'," he added.

(IANS) New Delhi

Listen to the new version of "Vande Mataram"!

Shafqat Amanat Ali is an international singing star who has performed across the world and is well known in Bollywood for his unique vocals. He entered Bollywood with the chart buster “Mitwa” in Karan Johar’s film Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna and “Tere naina” in My name is Khan. His vocals in the song “Bin Tere” from the movie I Hate Luv Stories fetched him a nomination for Filmfare Award for Best Male Playback Singer for the year 2011. His album "Kyun Dooriyan" was nominated for best album in "Indipop" category in Mirchi Music Award 2011. Shafqat Amanat Ali has also won the Award for the Best Live Act (artist) at The Musik Awards', which honors the biggest and the best of Pakistan’s music industry. Recently he lent his voice for the song "Kyun Mein Jagoon" in Askhay Kumars film Patiala House, “Chayi Hai Tanhai ” in Love Breakups Zindagi and most recently he sang “Dildara Dildara” in Ra.One.

Shafqat Amanat Ali has also won the award for the Best Live Act (artist) at The Musik Awards', which honours the biggest and the best of Pakistan’s music industry.

Recently he lent his voice for the song "Kyun Mein Jagoon" in Askhay Kumar's film Patiala House, “Chayi Hai Tanhai” in Love Breakups Zindagi and "Dildara Dildara” in Ra.One.

When: Friday, January 13, 2012
Where: Living Arts Centre
Time: 7:30pm to 10:30pm
Tickets: $30, $50, $75, & $100

Click HERE to purchase tickets online, or contact Eventivity at 647.272.0887.

Tickets are also available at:

• Mr India Grocers (Burnhamthorpe and Winston Churchill locations)
• Asian Point (1010 Dream Crest Rd)
• Video Station (1098 Peter Robertson Blvd, Brampton) - 905.792.3900

Proceeds from the event will support the two charities mentioned below:

The NGO Salman and Samina Global Wellness Initiative to support a village in Sindh Pakistan to build 48 shelters and installation of hand pumps for clean drinking water where people have had no shelter since the floods two years ago (the floods affected 18 million people, severely affecting 1.4 million women and 3.9 million children.

The Shartul Foundation, a non-profit organization for children with special needs. The goal at Shartul Foundation is to provide such children and their parents with a much-needed support structure. All the activities at the Foundation are geared towards creating a positive, loving and caring environment where children with special needs are made to feel at home.

Click HERE for more information.

This event is proudly sponsored by MyBindi.com.

Check out this song by Shafqat Amanat Ali from the film, I Hate Luv Stories!

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Shafqat Amanat Ali Live in Concert

• Posted
• on December 14, 2011
• in Music
• | 0 comments

Eventivity Inc. presents Shafqat Amanat Ali at the Living Arts Centre.

With Bollywood movies known for their bright and bold staging, some might suggest the flamboyant popstar and the genre are a natural fit, and Lady Gaga has revealed she is indeed captivated by Indian film.

Eager film producers have tried to bag her for their flicks in the past, and now her wishes are out there, Bollywood as well as Hollywood could come calling.

'I recently saw a Bollywood show in Paris and my interest in India has peaked. I would like to do a Bollywood film. I am fascinated by the dance and the clothing,' she told The Sun.

Fans of the Born This Way singer will be in for a treat next time she visits the region regardless, as she has expressed a wish to lay on a free concert next time she is out there.

This article first appeared HERE.

Kolaveri means killing rage, so the name of the song figuratively translates into something like ‘Why are you so damn angry with me, girl?’ And that remains a mystery throughout the song. One can only guess that it may be because of the guy’s alcoholic tendencies (guessing from his slurred voice) or the girl has anger management issues. The song is part of a movie called 3 so all may be revealed when the movie is released in January. But until then, the song not only has a mysterious allure, but  a broad relevancy that can apply to any of us who have been confused in love and wondering what the hell we did to piss off the other person so much.

It’s supposed to be a sad love song, a song about love gone wrong, or as the singer refers to it, a soup song. And you’ll be happy to learn that it’s appropriately dedicated to soup boys, meaning all the guys out there undergoing heartache, breakup, and the sorry side of love in general. There’s instant and universal empathy with a sad love song, and calling it a soup song gives it a dash of quirkiness and humour, making it distinctive.

Some say the song is in Tanglish – a combination of Tamil and English – but you could also call it Engmil. Actually though, apart from a few words, it’s in English, with the last sound of each word extended to simulate an exaggerated Tamil accent. Lyrics such as “Moon-u color-u white-u” and “Night-u color-u black-u” are cute but it also shows something else. Since the key players on this song are all South Indians, it shows an ability to laugh at themselves – something rare in Indian songs.

Because the song is essentially in English, it cuts across state borders and has national appeal. And because the song is in very simple English, it cuts across language barriers too, such that even those not fluent in English can understand it. A major attraction of this song is its simplicity and therefore its appeal to the common person. It’s not simple in the way of the Police song ‘De-Do-Do-Do De-Da-Da-Da’ which projects a veneer of simplicity but is quite profound underneath. It’s more similar to Cindy Lauper’s ‘Girls just wanna have fun’ and the Indian party song of a few of years ago ‘Just chill chill, just chill’ – but even those are manic in comparison. Kolaveri-di is probably closest in feeling to Bobby McFerrin’s ‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy’. There is a what-you-see-is-what-you-get transparency. Not only is the meaning simple, so are the tune and the words. The tune was composed by Anirudh Ravichander (age 21) and lyrics were written by Dhanush (28). Dhanush himself admits that the words are largely nonsense, but they are also simple and memorable. And beat is very catchy, the tune is easily hummable, and instrumentation is reminiscent of rustic street musicians. As Sting said, “…the simple can be so powerful.

”But it’s not just the audio impact of the song; it’s the video too. Those millions of clicks on YouTube are not for nothing. It shows a recording session in a studio with a group of 20-somethings, looking urban, artistic, and cosmopolitan. There is a very relaxed casual atmosphere, no sense of hierarchy, no rules, no pretension. Everyone is doing their own thing, in their own way. The song is not being lip-synced by a slick and buff movie star, but half sung and half spoken by a guy who looks like the boy next door or your college classmate. Watching him, people think, “Hey, I could do that.”

Most importantly though, it’s a soft protest song for today’s Indian youth – protesting against the establishment, rules, hierarchy, practicality, and idol of intellectualism. Everyone is striving to be class-topper and exam-topper, striving to get into IITs and IIMs, and striving to get into Microsoft and Google. These are youth who have been for years told “Always listen to your elders”, “Keep your nose to the grindstone”, and “Stay away from all vices”. They are tired of being so good, so clean, and studying so hard. However, unlike the youth of some other countries, they’re not the kind to rampage in the streets; father would disapprove and mother would be most disappointed. But along comes this simple, funny, and easy-to-understand song about girls, love, and alcohol, sung by a guy who looks like your college buddy who doesn’t study too hard and sounds like he’s had one too many himself. What a release! What’s not to like? This song is their soft rebellion.

This song is the opposite of everything they’ve been told: study hard for 16+ years and you will succeed. This song has not been carefully composed, respectfully nutured, and long practiced. The tune and the lyrics were all done in under thirty minutes. It’s impromptu and off the cuff. And it works. This song smacks of a ‘whatever’ attitude and perhaps even has a trace of apathy – emotions prohibited in Indian youth, not to mention other sections of India – except perhaps when you’re old and occupying the hallowed halls of government.

On a minor scale, in liking this song, the Indian youth are in essence saying they don’t always want that fully orchestrated, carefully choreographed product that comes out a complex, hierarchical, non-transparent, entertainment industry. They want something that’s simple, impromptu, that represents them: a song by youth, for youth. On a major scale, in liking this song, they are asserting their independence to disagree with their elders, to go against society’s standards and choose their own, to step out of the frenzied rat race and just slack off … even if just for four minutes.

This article first appeared HERE.

Check out this exclusive video shot during the recording of the "Why this kolaveri di" with the music composer Anirudh, Dhanush, Shruti Hassan, Aishwarya and Sound Engineer Sivakumar.

You hear drums. Chiming of bells. Dramatic pauses. People making funny noises. Then the music turns orchestral while a duet is sung. No, it’s not an Abba musical.

By: Nikita Ramkissoon

It’s a Bollywood song.

To the Western ear, Bollywood music sounds like one big merry mess with prettiness in between. What needs to be understood – especially by a person who is unfamiliar to the tradition and style – is that Bollywood songs are an entirely different machine to the usual.

Songs in Hindi films are so intrinsically linked to the visual of the film, the meaning is kind of lost if you’re not watching the film, and the structure of the song will definitely sound like something out of a postmodern dance show if the visual is not taken into consideration.

Having grown up with the Bollywood tradition, I understand how weird it must sound, to hear sitar and then violin… and then trumpets.

But it’s all about the film. The colour, dancing and celebrations are all superfluous and an excuse to showcase the beauty of Indian culture.

Bollywood culture is a very specific type of escapism where generic upper-class reality of religion and family meets the fantasy world of true love despite restrictive traditions. This is what the masses of India use to break away from the hard life of poverty-stricken India.

Movie themes are generally along this storyline. Forbidden love, tradition, religion and family.

The songs are an integral part of this as the likes of Shah Rukh Khan and Aishwarya Rai sing to each other, telling the story of the obstacles standing between them and happily ever after.

Each song indicates the fantasy world of the lovers, the celebrations of religious tradition, the expression – and importance – of culture, or demonstration of emotion. These are sung by playback singers, and acted out by the stars, which carry the story by this form of expression. Mostly duets, the songs explain the characters’ feelings.

This is coupled with dancing in a field in different outfits the characters would otherwise not wear, different locations such as the Pyramids of Giza – hence the mélange of different music styles, and elaborate dance sequences at weddings, which do actually happen.

(Though at real weddings these are rehearsed and don’t include massive dance troupes who suddenly know all the words and choreography.)

So, basically, the music is an extension of the action. If the actors are dancing at a Diwali celebration it will be traditional, and so will the music. If they are at a Western-style ball with suits and dresses, the music will be orchestral.

The songs are really long, too; because the films are long, and so are the ceremonies. Indians like to draw out everything to the point of wrist-slitting boredom.

If the characters are in India and then suddenly appear in China for a bit of a fantasy dance sequence, the music will change to suit the scene. Don’t ask me how they end up in China. They just do.

Another thing that may be confusing to Bollywood newcomers is the inexplicable inclusion of music from another song from another film. This is India’s way of being postmodern. Bollywood loves doing this. It makes the directors feel all clever-clever.

Cross-referencing, giving a nod to previous greats and shameless use of old dance moves is done through musical themes. This often occurs in films in which actors from said previous film are paired up again. How sweet.

Reprising themes from other songs within the same film accompany flashbacks – a character remembering good times in a sad song or sad times in a happy song. Silly, but entertaining nonetheless.

Also, there are happy and sad versions of the same song. Usually the title track is manipulated to reveal the emotion of the scene. The title track theme is also used in other songs just for the hell of it. Don’t ask why. It just happens.

Certain musical themes follow different characters around, much like the same disconcerting strike with a bow across the violin to indicate Batman’s Joker or the two piano notes which immediately spell Jaws. But with Bollywood, this can be done mid-song.

Prayer segments are also included every now and then. Confusing to anyone who doesn’t know there’s a prayer for everything from sunrise to slicing bread.

Note, no amount of kitsch can be considered silly, unprofessional or uncool in Bollywood. With the ‘80s never having left India, even including a bit of big brass band or reggae in an awesome traditional dance number is acceptable.

(And yes, Indians still call them ‘dance numbers’.)

Finally, the contents of the song dictate the sounds. If the song comes out of a scene where there is traditional dancing, the sound of sticks or bells can be heard throughout the song.

Understanding the incongruencies of Bollywood music all point to one solution: Watch the darn film. They’re three hours long, silly, pretty, unrealistic and sometimes really confusing what with all the feet-touching and Shiva causing lighting that kills the baddie.

But if you can believe that Q can make James Bond’s a car disappear, believe that Saif Ali Khan and Preity Zinta can go from Lucknow to Paris in a matter of seconds.

It will make the music so enjoyable, you may – like me – do some shoulder-shaking Bhangra dancing while in traffic, or randomly break into song just like they do in the movies.

Don’t ask questions. It’s not Scorsese coupled with Danny Elfman. It’s Bollywood. A totally different world. Just enjoy it. Every random minute of it.

This article first appeared HERE.

The cutie took over his Dad’s studio to sing the famous Tamil song, "Kolaveri Di." Neevan sang the track while his family watched proudly in studio. 

It turns out that the singer and writer of the song, Dhanush who is the son of the iconic South Indian actor Rajnikanth, heard Neevan's cover of the track and tweeted to Sonu, "Oh my god I'm in love with Neevaan's version of 'Kolaveri'. Great idea Sonu Niigaamji. It's very touching and endearing. Hi 5 Neevaan. God bless,"

Check out Neevan’s version of Kolaveri which he calls the "Milk Song".

This article first appeared HERE.

In the last few months, Parichay has been working hard in the studio to deliver something new to his fans. So far, we’ve been impressed with the singles that have dropped off his up upcoming album, All New Everything, and his brand new collaborative track has impressed us too.

The collaboration is called "Supersonic Love" and the teaser is one to listen out for. With a blend of Punjabi and English vocals mixed in well by RBD and Parichay, they manage to bounce off each other pretty well. The track unexpectedly fades out, which makes us think the full version should be out soon.

However, will "Supersonic Love" be able to match the same kind of success as their last Bollywood remix of the song Yamla Pagla Deewana?

Who’s ready to be a part of RDB and Parichay’s Supersonic world?

Check out the teaser below!

This article first appeared HERE.

New York-based singer combines Indian musical roots with sounds of Saharan Africa, Portugal, Ireland and Afghanistan.

The India-born Canadian singer Kiran Ahluwalia is known for her ability to combine a wide range of styles in single compositions - from the Indian and Pakistani “ghazals” of her girlhood, to Celtic folk music, Portuguese Fado and, most recently, the traditional hand clapping and blues-inspired music of the Tuareg tribes of West Africa.

“It’s not that I intended to come here,
but the path has led me here.
Laced with dust though I am,
yet please consider that for years
I have been wandering dusty paths…”

Those are lyrics to the ghazal “Yeh Nahin.” It's Punjabi for “Wandering Dusty Paths,” composed by Kiran Ahluwalia. Born in India, raised in Canada, now living in New York and touring the world with her band, Ahluwalia’s own path has been wandering ever since she first heard these traditional love songs as a girl.

“Even though the words were beyond the comprehension of a 10 year old, I was just mesmerized by the music," says Ahluwalia, in the apartment overlooking Harlem she shares with her husband, fellow musician and producer Rez Abassi.

Ahluwlia is known for her daring collaborations with musicians from far flung corners of the globe. In her new CD, “Aam Zameen: Common Ground,” she teams up with Tinariwen, a Tuareg desert blues band from Mali, as well as traditional Tuareg musicians and a Gambian “ritti” player.

When Ahluwalia and the Tuareg musicians met in France to record, they often had to resort to hand gestures to convey ideas. She says they experimented, rehearsed, gesticulated and laughed together for hours before the recording session began.

“So when I walked into that Paris studio all of my energy pods were open, and oh my God, at the end of that day like 20 people had jumped inside of me,” she says. “We just found a completely instant connection after we started singing."

That kinship can be heard in “Musst Musst" the CD’s signature song. Ahluwalia knew it was a risk for her mostly Indian musicians to play a traditional Sufi Muslim song from Pakistan with Tuaregs in a Saharan blues style. But South Asians and Tuaregs both combine hand clapping and call and response in their traditions, and somehow it worked.

“I think we all succeeded in integrating our different backgrounds so well, it is one unit. There was no dividing line.”

While the musical styles that Ahluwalia explores are rooted in particular cultures, emotions are universal. For example, even though she spoke no Portuguese, she immediately recognized the sense of love and longing that are the hallmarks of the Portuguese “Fado” and sought out a partnership with Fado instrumentalists that resulted in her 2007 “Wanderlust” CD.  

“I almost never know the words when I am falling in love with a different type of music,” says the singer. “It’s really everything else in the music: the feeling of the phrases, the melody, the rhythm, and the mood it creates… that is touching me.”

Sometimes, the moods in Ahluwalia’s collaborations are joyful, as in “Jhanjra,” a traditional Punjabi folk-song she recorded with the Celtic fiddler Natalie MacMaster. At other times, she has collaborated with traditional Afghani musicians and Inuit “throat singers.”

Ahluwalia says that she is drawn to collaboration because as an India-born woman raised in Canada, “I myself am a collaboration. Culturally and musically, those two influences are very much within me and my own identity. On the other hand, I’m a citizen of the world. And the entire world is there for me to be influenced by.”

Just where Ahluwalia’s travels will take her after her current tour is anyone’s guess. However, one thing is certain: while remaining rooted in her own musical heritage, she will continue to honor the traditions of others to create a musical world where geographic boundaries need not apply. 

This article first appeared HERE.

Contributed by Sheniz Janmohamed: Author of Bleeding Light, Spoken Word Artist, Junooni

I wasn’t born in Pakistan. Neither were my parents. I have no ties to the country, save for my love of its literature and music. And that’s why its soil runs through my veins.

While many of my peers from Pakistan have grown up on the music of Junoon, I grew into its music. It was in university that I discovered how the timeless lyrics of Bulleh Shah could find their way through the riffs of Salman Ahmad’s guitar, the exquisite pain in Ali Azmat’s voice and the brilliant bass of Brian O’Connell.  For it was Bulleh Shah who forced me to ask the question we all ask ourselves at one point in our lives, “Who am I?” A question so simple and so profound, a question sung in the desert and shouted in the streets, a question with no answer and every answer. A question a talented group of musicians had the courage to ask themselves when it wasn’t particularly fashionable to be “old school”. They made it fashionable, and they made it last.

While studying for exams, writing papers and contemplating my purpose on this planet, I listened to the rhythms of Junoon and watched their videos on youtube. Junoon’s music is a repository of sufi poetry, a time capsule of an era, a tear shed at the loss of innocence, a quest for truth and a revolution for change. It brought me closer to a Pakistan that was more complex, nuanced and real than the one I read about in the newspapers. Junoon was the pulse of a generation, and it continues to circulate in our collective bloodstream.

While I admired all the band members of Junoon, I had a soft spot for Salman Ahmad. Salman Ahmad was my kind of guy. The all encompassing Sufi with a gypsy heart, he embodied the passion that so few of us have the courage to display. The first time I heard him live was at the Mystical Journey tour in Toronto, a show featuring a troupe of Sufi musicians from around the world. He accompanied a graceful kathak dancer who effortlessly whirled in and out of circles, matched in fanaa’ by the subtle rhythms of “Heer”.

I had no backstage pass, no way to tell him how much Junoon influenced my life. But the fact that I had seen him perform live was enough...or so I thought.

Years later, I heard Salman Ahmad was coming to Toronto, and would be performing at the very festival I would be performing at.  The opening night of the festival, I waited to be interviewed by a less than enthusiastic journalist, and out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a familiar face. Salman Ahmad, decked out in a fedora hat and an indigo tie-dye  shirt, was walking my way. Before I had a chance to inform the organizers, he had reached out for my hand to shake it. For a good part of the evening, I stood next to him, his sons and his wife Samina. When you meet someone you had admired from a distance, they can either disappoint you or exceed your expectations. Salman Ahmad and his family were kind beyond expectations. And perhaps this is the the essence of being Junooni. It’s not just about the music, it’s about how you live your life every day. It’s about being true to your expression in every expression.

Salman Ahmad performed the next night, after the rain had soaked the grass, our clothes and the pavement. The air was cool and pleasant, and a large crowd gathered around the outdoor stage to hear the songs of Junoon ring out through the city. As Salman took to the stage, the excitement became palpable. And there I was, right in front of the stage, staring up at an intermittent stream of coloured lights, dancing off the backs of the band members.

I was so close, I could see Ahmad’s rope of tigers eye hanging loosely around his wrist.

I was so close, I could feel the vibration of the bass pounding in my chest.

Toronto got a taste of Junoon’s classics that evening, and the audience couldn’t get enough--they sang along to every word, clapped in time and cheered until their voices became hoarse. Ahmad and John Alec performed a hypnotic tribute to Ustad Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, haunting and impeccable in its execution. Salman’s eyes were closed throughout the song, the light behind him shimmering like a halo as he moved his head back and forth in the rhythm of his guitar. The song was more than a song-- it was an act of prayer.  It was impossible for the audience not to feel the blessings of that devotional offering, that sacredness of sound.

And then Ahmad asked, “How many people from Punjab out there?”

And we knew what was coming. Bulleh Shah was from Punjab. The restless soul of Bulleh Shah was resurrected in the lungs of Salman Ahmad, of every Junooni, of every lover of Sufism. And therein lies the true beauty and legacy of Junoon- it’s ability to remind us of the wisdom of our beloved poets, to ask the hard questions, to take the risk of being authentic-- at any cost.

In those few hours, there was no separation between the audience and the performer. We were bound together by the light of junoon burning in our veins, that inner voice urging us to ask the eternal question.....bulleya ki jaana main kaun?

Junoon's 20th Anniversary album features timeless classics rendered in brilliant new ways by artists like Bilal Khan and Rohail Hyatt. Visit www.junoon.com to hear samples of the new tracks.