Ravi Shankar - The Passing of a Legend

I woke today to the sad news overnight that Ravi Shankar had passed away in California. I saw him perform three times, twice in London, at the Royal Albert Hall, and once at Lichfield Cathedral. Shankar stayed at my Uncle’s house close to the Cathedral and I was asked if I wanted to meet him. I said no, thinking I would have nothing to say to him, and that he would be overwhelmed with visitors. I rather regret that now.

I only learnt today that Shankar was of Bengali heritage; somehow I’d presumed he was from elsewhere in India. But really that is not a surprise as you may know Bengalis consider themselves the most cultured group in India.

Shankar was a limited presence in our household when we were growing up. My father had a couple of his albums – the fusion work with Yehudi Mehudin. To my ears the music was a revelation, a stark contrast to most of the music I had grown up with. Not only was the sound different but the pieces (ragas) were almost orchestral in length – no short songs – requiring complete focus and dedication from the sitarist and the accompanists who did not have the music in front of them. That meant each performance was different, the artists jamming. What I loved was that Shankar would introduce the ragas in some detail when performing describing the scenario. To someone like me, interested in the music but without any introduction that was as important as the music itself.

Shankar was originally a dancer, touring Europe before the Second World War with his family before switching to the sitar at the relatively late age of 18. He spent some 7 years learning his instrument at the feet, literally, of masters of the sitar. Thereafter he built his reputation touring India, and eventually composing and performing for All India Radio (the equivalent of the BBC). Film assignments for both Hindi and Bengali movies, most notably for Satyjit Ray’s (yet another Bengali) Apu trilogy, sealed his reputation within India as its premier sitarist.

Probably Shankar would have stayed unknown in the West were it not for the drug fuelled 60s hippie revolutions. The Beatles came calling, with George Harrison in particular, keen to learn the sitar. Two Beatles songs, Norwegian Wood, and Within You Without You were in large part sitar driven. Shankar played at numerous festivals in the US in the 60s, when he memorably described the audience as “stoned”. For Shankar his music had spiritual overtones and he felt the audiences were not interested in that aspect, more interested in enjoying themselves. Partially for that reason he withdrew from the festival circuit but by then his reputation was made and he toured globally.

I realise that when I saw him 25 years ago at Lichfield Cathedral he was probably at his peak – it was a privilege to see him then. It was for me one of the few connections to India I had; India was seemingly exotic and different, and Shankar exemplified that. Indeed so besotted was I that I asked my mother for a sitar when I was 19; Mum, I’m still waiting!!!

Apart from Shankar’s position as the preeminent sitarist of his era, he has two important legacies. Firstly, the major musicians who count him as a major influence. These include Philip Glass, Yehudi Menuin, The Beatles, and A.R. Rahman, the Bollywood composer, amongst others. His other contributions are his musician children Norah Jones and Anouskha Shankar.

Secondly, he made what is now known as “World Music” accessible. It meant that Peter Gabriel introduced Youssou N’Dour to the world, followed by artists like Baba Maal. Almost at the same time Paul Simon went to Soweto in South Africa to meet with and record with Ladysmith Black Mambazo for his Graceland album. Shankar’s legacy are the world musicians, from India and Africa in particular, who appear at venues like the South Bank every season.