Composing music for films happens within a circumscribed arena, especially in the Indian context where music is formulaic most of the time. In the west, film composers have a wider latitude to experiment with musical aesthetics and arrangement. For instance, legends such as John Williams and Ennio Morricone are bracketed in the same league as classical composers, and Western musical orchestras play film music as part of their classical performances with the same dedication and skill as they would a Mozart, Bach or Tchaikovsky piece.
The aesthetics, expectations and demands of commercial Indian cinema impose constraints on what a composer can musically achieve. The necessity that songs should form an integral part of the narrative relegates background score to a place of lesser importance. This is unfortunate because, one would assume, that the prime task of music in a film is to elevate, enhance and embellish the visual narrative and not drift into a parallel musical world of disembodied songs, unless the movie itself is about music. In Indian movies, however, this logic is reversed. Most Indian movies must have songs, whether needed or not. Composers are allowed to get away with an average background score as long as their songs are hummable even if they don't fit into the narrative. If you ask a film goer how the music was, he or she is most likely to assume that you are asking their opinion about the songs in the film. While the newer generation of film composers and film critics are trying hard to change this perception, I don't think they have succeeded much, yet. Even today there are ostentatious audio launches that are organized with as much extravagance and glittering paraphernalia as the movies themselves. But the good news is that in some of these audio launches, pieces of background score are also performed along with the songs.
But why songs? This state of affairs has more to do with the fact that Commercial Indian movies are predominantly made for a population who come to movies for entertainment, as an escape for daily life. It is this population that makes up the box-office and drives the commercial success of a movie. Film creators cannot afford to ignore their needs. And for this population, songs provide a cathartic outlet and fill out their fantasies. The foremost duty of a music composer, therefore, is to create catchy songs that can hook viewers audio-visually , and then if the composer has any creativity left they are free to expend it on the background score. This is the guiding principle for composers. That is why it is hard to become a John Williams in the Indian film scene.
Take the case of film composer Deva, who passed away this morning, IST. For over four decades, his songs have laced and embroidered over four-hundred films. However, he will never be remembered for his background scores, except for that signature Rajni tune he composed for Baasha: a heroic ensemble of drums and strings - which still remains the title music for all Rajni films. Deva will be primarily remembered for his Gaana songs : a peculiar genre that encapsulates Chennai's street-corner philosophy set to drums, evoking the fragrance of working-class neighborhoods of North Chennai. Gaana compositions have simple repetitive melodies, scaffolded by heavy percussion, call-and-response vocals, and lyrics that reek of Chennai-slang about love, death, drink, and just getting through a tough day. The songs are bland, funny, irreverent, occasionally bawdy, and unexpectedly philosophical sometimes. But they grow on you as you listen to them. Deva was the progenitor and master of the Gaana genre, and he sang many of these songs in his rough, rustic, crooning and chant-like voice that burrowed its way into a listener’s ears like a music-worm.
It is not that Deva only composed gaana songs. There are many melodies in his discography. The criticism often raised against him that he plagiarized tunes, often blatantly. That may be true to some extent, but you are hardly expected to be original in film music where the musical bar isn't too high. After all, the composer has to deal with the same set of emotions that are repeated over and over again. In fact, no film music composer can survive with plagiarizing someone else's work at some point. The compulsions of commercial cinema and the economics of it demands such transgressions. Composers often refer to plagiarized work as inspired tunes and . Call it what you may, it doesn’t matter to me, as long as the imitation works well and adds value to the original. It is true that many of Deva's songs sound like you have heard them before somewhere. for instance, in the 1992 blockbuster Rajni-starter Baasha, the duet song “Nee Nadandhal Nadaiazhagu” is a skillful interpretation of RD Burman’s “ Dilbar dil se pyare”, a beautiful Asha number. Nothing wrong, Deva's version is equally good and skillfully adapted. RD himself borrowed a lot from western singers. So the chain continues both ways.
Deva was a prolific composer and he made no extraordinary claims about himself or his talent. He knew what he could do, he did it well and stayed within his lane. In the Nineties, perhaps his best decade, he composed music for three Rajni films, and in all three, his songs and background score was exemplary and it lifted the Superstar’s on-screen persona to that of a demi-god with Vairamuthu’s lyrics providing the substance of the songs and Deva's notes its musical soul.
In public life, from what I have seen and read, Deva came across as a humble and polite man content with his life and work and not to have harbored any grudges or ill will. In an industry known for its incessant bickering and controversies, Deva had an untarnished image, often encouraging young film composers and giving them chances that would have come to him. He had no pretenses of being anything but a composer who composed light music and devotional songs. Directors and producers loved him for his work ethic and willingness to work with them on their own terms.
I don’t have too many Deva songs in my playlists. The few that I have are my favorites. But he has always been a part of my musical world for decades. I am not sure if his musical legacy will inspire younger composers to think of music in a different way; but there is certainly something to be learned from his simplicity and focus that could help keep aspiring composers grounded and humble