Discovered by Chance. Treasured for Life. Review on Barson Huey - Sanjo and Chandrani

Mainstream music is all too easy to find out about. Everybody’s talking about it — in cafeterias and college canteens, on blogs and forums, at street corners and cool hangouts. Even the RJ community keep chattering endlessly about it.

That’s why there’s something adventurously exciting about discovering underground music. Melodies created by unknown, unheralded and unassuming artistes whose talent and creativity far surpass that of mainstream artistes, and yet for some unfathomable reason they remain untouched by fame… perhaps because that’s the way they want it. Who knows?

Anyway, I was talking about the sheer thrill of discovering such artistes unexpectedly. It’s all too common in the UK with its thriving underground and garage bands scene, but rare in India. Heck, even Rabbi became mainstream!

So there I was… browsing through a stack of old, dusty cassettes at a hole-in-the-wall music shop in CP (the central business district of New Delhi, India). Most of it was the regular crap — Best Of, Greatest Hits, and of course, remixes galore. I tossed them aside, and was about to move away, when I saw an album with a cover that appeared to be blank! There was something intriguing about this, because Indian artistes never go for this kind of cover. It’s fairly common in the West where Led Zeppelin IV was launched with no text on the cover (not even the name of the band), and Pink Floyd’s The Wall simply carried a white bricked pattern across both the front and the back of the record sleeve.

Picking the cassette up, I cleared the dust away and studied the cover closely. It was remarkably artistic. A warm bluish aura of light glowed from the middle of the cover. Above, two simple words in Roman Hindi announced the name of the album: Barson Huey. And below, in humbly small type, were the names of the artistes behind the music — Sanjo and Chandrani.

I flipped it over to find two photographs of the artistes, looking like simple folk musicians and very, very down-to-earth. There was something extremely endearing about them. Sanjo in a very earthy kurta, hunched intensely over his wood guitar, and Chandrani apparently lost in thought on some creative flight of fancy. Charming!

Needless to say, I bought the cassette. And never had a moment’s regret thereafter — except one: the sound sucks!

I could certainly go into raptures over each and every song in the album (there are ten in all), but folks here, on Mouthshut, have already done that, as I can see. Nevertheless, being a music connoisseur of sorts, I would like to highlight the sheer brilliance of the title track, Barson Huey. It is a fascinating composition, and Chandrani’s lyrics are hauntingly beautiful. This is a song that gets into your system (like some other reviewers have mentioned, and I can now empathize with them), and it brings back a rush of personal memories from one’s own past. There is a certain inescapable pain woven into the lines of the song, and Sanjo’s soft soothing vocals capture the throbbing nostalgia with amazing sensitivity.

As a (self-styled) connoisseur of Western pop and rock music, I am an ardent follower of classy guitar solos. Who could forget the searing solos in songs like Hotel California, Sultans of Swing and November Rain? In fact, these songs are memorable largely on account of their outstanding guitar solos. Sadly, Indian music lacks such solos. Thankfully, the bands from neighboring Pakistan do offer pretty good solos, worth listening to — Junoon and Jal, to name just two at random.

So naturally, I was delighted to find that each and every one of the songs on this album have intricate, unimaginably melodic guitar solos, largely of the acoustic variety (which as far as I know, is mighty difficult to play). If you are a guitar freak like me, I would particularly point you in the direction of five songs where the intros, solos and interludes are exceptional: Shaayad Kabhi, Woh Shaamey, Palkon Pe Tha, Zindagi and Sapno Ka Ek Shahar.

Chandrani comes shining through on two songs — Palkon Pe Tha which is an absolutely fascinating solo, and Hum Logon Ka Saath, which she has sung and harmonized on, all at the same time, hitting some unimaginably complex high notes… effortlessly!

So who are Sanjo and Chandrani? Nobody seems to have the faintest idea! No news coverage. No live shows. The cassette has their web address, but one gets a screen saying “Under Construction”. When you find a band you want to track, you make it a point to follow their website, their blog, their concerts, their interviews, their everything. In the case of Sanjo and Chandrani, there’s nothing.

Thank God, there’s this brilliant album at least!

Sadly, I know this mouldy cassette isn’t going to last for very long. I’ve converted the songs into Mp3 files on my computer, replete with all the hiss and distortion, so that I can hold on to them… hopefully for a lifetime.