Kerala band Thaikuddam Bridge to sue makers of Kannada movie Kantara for plagiarising their track
An enrapturing prelude on the violin, which is nearly made to sound like the people Pullavan Vina performed throughout Sarpam Pattu – the ritual dance carried out in temples by the ladies of the Pulluvar group through the serpent worship ceremony in Kerala – opens Navarasam – the track from the eponymous debut album of Kochi-based band Thaikuddam Bridge. Played by founder and frontman Govind Vasantha, the magnificent piece is adopted by heavy guitars, huge reverb, Vipin Lal’s light voice, and the rock frenzy that’s constructed alongside. The sound swells as if an infinite orchestra is pumping it up, discovering a state of reverie alongside some tender vocals. It’s a superb sonic extravaganza that hits the spot.
The band discovered a lot consideration for the track, which additionally made it to the credit of Manoj Bajpayee and Samantha Ruth Prabhu-starrer, The Family Man. But what Vasantha and the band didn’t anticipate was that they are going to discover parts of this 2015 piece in Rishabh Shetty-starrer Kannada movie, Kantara – set within the nineteenth century, a couple of demi-god named Bhoota who will get the native king to present a few of his forestlands to the tribals, which years later are claimed again by the king’s successor. The track Varaha Rupam in Kantara opens with the same prelude, solely that it’s performed on a nadhaswaram. Vasantha advised The Indian Express, “I found out about the song when people began to message and congratulate the band for being featured in Kantara. That had me listen to the song they created and I figured that this was beyond being influenced.”
Vasantha, who’s sad with the copyright infringement, has already put collectively a authorized staff to proceed with a swimsuit towards the filmmaker, producers, and inventive staff of Kantara. “There is a process to these things. They could have actually asked us to use the song and we would have tweaked it for them. It would have been good on the filmmakers’ part to use an independent band in their film,” says Vasantha, who’s now a well known composer within the Tamil and Malayalam music trade and a sought-after identify recognized for his signature mix of classical and modern sound.
According to Vian Fernandes, the bassist of the band, if the track was solely impressed, they’d let it go. “At times, we love certain flavours and we try to get them in our conversations. But taking off a track and adding each and every element, including the orchestration, and not even crediting the artistes is a different ballgame altogether,” says Fernandes.
Post the controversy on social media and earlier than the band determined to take the authorized route, Ajneesh Loknath, the composer of Kantara referred to as Vasantha and was upset in regards to the controversy. “He didn’t accept the plagiarism part, of course. I also make music for movies and I believe there are very different pressures in that world. So I cannot blame only Ajneesh for this. What I am sure of is that the creative people involved or the writer and producers have used Navarasam as the reference for their song. In my experience, a lot of filmmakers tell you that they want a sound like a song they have already heard. But usually one creates something in the same energy and vibe. Ajneesh was very polite and I consoled him, but the problem exists,” says Vasantha.
While the multi-lingual and much-appreciated piece is steeped in layers of meanings, at a fundamental degree it alludes to the concept of the performing arts which had been as soon as realized on the toes of a guru and the way they’re more and more changing into ‘a monstrous ghost of their former self” besides a showcase of the navarasas – the nine moods described in Natyashastra and ones that the world of Indian performing arts (music, dance and theatre) is based upon. But this song is also the story of caste prejudice so deep-rooted in the same world. To articulate the thought, the band took navarasas and displayed them through Kathakali – one of India’s most recognisable dance varieties from India that mixes dance, storytelling, and mythology, which has had a dying fall for a number of years. It can also be the artform that the track’s founder Govind Vasantha (earlier Menon) grew up watching his elder brother carry out after spending hours on the flowery make-up, costumes, and the rice-paper masks on the face. “Watching my brother learn and dance Kathakali back home in Irinjalakuda (Thrissur) had a huge impact on me,” says Vasantha, who dropped Menon from his identify a number of years in the past to not be recognized by a specific caste and to honour his mom Vasanthakumari.
The story of the track, as proven within the music video, is a couple of younger boy studying Kathakali from his dad and mom, being bullied at school by the ‘upper-caste boys’ and finally discovering leaping right into a effectively to keep away from getting beateb up. “This piece has many layers and I leave it to people to interpret,” says Vasantha. While it’s the story of the humanities, their magnificence, and decline, it’s additionally a narrative of these from decrease castes eager to follow the “high arts”. The story most likely comes from the marginalised group of the Ezhavas, a lot of whom took up Kathakali. The video of Kantara makes use of the imagery of Gaarudi Gombe, which, like Kathakali, includes heavy costumes and face paint.
Thaikuddam Bridge got here to consideration in 2014 once they had the digital world in a tizzy with its wild musical mishmash. What made them stand out again then was their small however attention-grabbing oeuvre of songs marked by versatility. As for the band’s distinctive moniker, it was simply one thing they got here up with. “All the hunky, funky, lean, mean, fat, brat members of the band got themselves jam-packed in a room near Thaikkudam Bridge in Kochi,” Vasantha had mentioned as soon as. All of the music was their very own.