Gundecha Brothers | Payton MacDonald

Artistic Success

I’ve been on this planet long enough to notice why some people in my field develop into first-rate artists and others don’t. My students ask me all the time if I have any secrets or tips for gaining mastery as a musician. Spending time with the remarkable Gundecha Brothers has confirmed my thoughts on this matter. They perfectly embody what I think are the traits needed to become a great musician, which are (in this specific order):

Talent
Passion
Vision
Work Ethic

Let’s look at each of these. The notion of musical talent is complex and involves a lot of #2 and #3, but at its most basic level is the ability to learn music quickly and accurately, a feeling for the nuances of pitch, and good basic rhythm. These are skills that can be developed, but a certain amount of it has to be innate, and if you don’t have it from the beginning, you’ll never get it.

However, even the most talented people will get nowhere if they aren’t passionate about music. You have to really want it, more than anything else. It has to get you excited. You’ve got to feel a burning desire to make music that is more powerful than anything else in your life.

But talent and passion still aren’t enough. What are you going to do with that talent and that passion? What is your vision? You can love music more than anything else, but in order to develop to a high level you need to be able to point that talent and passion in a specific direction, otherwise you’ll just drift.

And that brings us to the last trait necessary for artistic success: work ethic. I’ve lost count of the number of times Gurujis have arrived at the Gurukul at 10:00 a.m. to put in five hours of teaching, coming straight from the airport, where they arrived after an overnight flight following a concert. They never stop. They’re either performing or teaching. When they’re in town they teach seven days a week. Once in a while they might go for some tourist activity when they’re traveling, but that’s about it for entertainment. Mostly they work. And work. And work. I challenge you to name one great musician who is any different. You might have a great vision of what you want to achieve as a musician, and you might be very talented and passionate, but if you’re not willing to give up your Friday nights and Sunday mornings to long, hard hours of practice you aren’t going to make it. I’ve done pretty well for myself as a musician, but as far as talent goes, I’m somewhere in the middle. Not the best, though certainly not the worst. But I’m deeply passionate about music, I’ve had a vision of where I wanted to take that passion, and day after day, week after week, and year after year I work at it. Not because I have to, but because I want to. I just love making music.

People ask me all the time “how do you do it all?” and people also ask me why I work so much. Well, here’s the secret: it’s not work! Work is paying taxes or sitting on boring committees. Music is bliss and a privilege. I’m happiest when I’m composing or practicing, and the more challenging the project, the more satisfaction I get out of it. I can manage a lot of things at a high level because I work on them every day, and because for a long time I’ve had a vision of how I wanted my life to turn out as a musician. I’m also fortunate that I’ve had guidance from the best people in my field, who have all embodied the traits listed above and are always inspiring.

Different Music Communities; Different Music

I just got back from a week in Germany with Alarm Will Sound (AWS). It was an interesting experience. I expected when I landed in Frankfurt that I would feel a strong sense of relief at being back in a more familiar Western country. But I didn’t. I felt disoriented. Everything was amazingly clean and functional. The trains even have a ten minute guarantee (or your money back), definitely not something you’ll find in India! But it was cold, both literally cold and there was a palpable feeling of distance from the people. The wealth is staggering. It seems everyone is wearing expensive clothes and carrying fancy purses and briefcases. Everyone is busy, busy, busy, constantly checking their phones and looking worried. No one talks to you.

Being back with my old friends in AWS was a treat, but it’s a completely different experience than spending time with my friends at the Gurukul. At the ashram-like Gurukul we’re in a quiet, rural environment singing justly tuned intervals over a drone all day, which produces feelings of peace and centeredness. The students are quiet and humble. They rarely use profanity or make jokes with sexual innuendo. Drugs or alcohol are expressly forbidden at the Gurukul, as is sexual relations with other students or friends. The students only speak respectfully about our Gurus, who encourage us to focus 100% on Dhrupad and not get distracted by media and pop culture.

My AWS friends, on the other hand, are bundles of nervous energy. They’re very, very smart, and have access to a nearly 24/7 diet of media and technology via their phones and tablets. They talk fast about a wide range of subjects, though by far the most popular subject is media, for which they have a voracious appetite. Internet memes, phone apps, TV shows, websites, movies, etc. A few of them are readers and prefer to discuss books and articles, but most of them are passionate about media. Profanity is more common that at the Gurukul. They are irreverent, witty, and energetic.

And of course the music is different. The biggest thing that I noticed is that in the West—especially in larger ensembles—there is a much starker line drawn between rehearsing music and performing it. Rehearsals are often tedious affairs, with very detailed work done on minute sections of a piece. This is necessary, of course, and one of the reasons AWS has risen to the top ranks is because their Alan Pierson leads the willing players through such focused, disciplined rehearsals. But it can be boring. Many times I would look around and see half the band playing with their phones or reading books while waiting their turn to polish some difficult passage. However, when the concert rolls around they are completely focused and involved in the music. They can turn it on or off. Teaching is generally also a separate activity, though AWS is involved with some interesting educational initiatives right now.

In Hindustani music the lines between practicing and performing and teaching are blurrier. My Gurus include students on almost every one of their concerts, including big ones at major venues. (The students are playing tanpura and singing backup vocals.) And when practicing Dhrupad one is just as engaged as when performing it. Part of this is because it is a soloist or chamber ensemble tradition, so one is pretty much always singing or playing, but it’s also because Dhrupad involves improvisation, which isn’t something you can turn on and off as easily as you can an isolated melody or riff. This is why our lessons with Gurujis often turn into informal performances.

One is not better than the other, they’re just different. The improvisational language of Dhrupad gives it an immediacy and level of communication with an audience that I rarely feel with Western classical music. And the purity of the music produces feelings of wonder and peace that I rarely experience when listening to modern Western music. But the notated tradition, the large ensemble, and disciplined rehearsal practice of a world-class Western ensemble like AWS produces an astonishing and inspiring variety of musical sounds and concepts. The ability of my friends in AWS to traverse such different musical terrain over the course of a single concert is mind blowing. It is a testament to their musicianship and discipline, as well as their far-ranging intellectual curiosity. It is stimulating as a listener. Even though it uses extensive improvisation, Hindustani music, by contrast, is much more homogenous. Indian classical musicians rarely experiment with form or orchestration.

I feel lucky to be able to bounce between the two worlds. It’s humbling and inspiring, and also useful as I can take what I perceive to be the strengths of each tradition and the community that perpetrates it and make those strengths a bigger part of my life.

Bach, Beethoven, Brahms, and Bieber

There are a few things I didn’t expect to be doing while in India. Teaching the music of Justin Bieber is one of them.

Some background first: As part of my Fulbright grant I’m doing a little teaching at the Gundecha Brothers’ Gurukul. I offer a lecture every few weeks or so. I’ll be covering a variety of topics throughout the year, including an overview of Western classical music, some basic Western music notation, tuning (including Just Intonation and Equal Temperament), and basic orchestration.

This has put me in the curious position of being an ambassador for Western music to the Indians. I say “curious” because back home it is the reverse: I am often an ambassador for Indian music to my Western students and colleagues. Misunderstandings abound on either side. Many of my Indian friends believe that all Western classical music is in equal temperament, that there is no improvisation in our tradition, our music is entirely technical and devoid of feeling, and there is no melody. All false. My Western friends believe that Indian classical music is out of tune (actually the reverse is true, it’s often more in tune than most Western music), that there is little variety in Indian music, the voice culture is unrefined, and that Indian musicians don’t use notation at all. Again, all false.

Indeed, it seems that my career has more and more taken the shape of being a kind of negotiator between the two traditions. I’m even building a major non-profit organization right now with my brilliant colleague Reena Esmail, in which we will focus on artists who have created a whole new kind of music that brings together the two traditions in meaningful ways. We are planning festivals, educational experiences, etc. More on that later.

But I digress. Let’s get back to Justin Bieber.

Umakant Gundecha’s son is named Nirant, though everyone calls him Niru. Niru is in his early 20s and he LOVES popular music and wants to learn more about Western pop music. So I’m teaching him the basics of Western notation so that he can learn to read a lead sheet. I’m also encouraging him to learn some different software so that he can be more effective in a studio. I’ll eventually teach him some drums if we can find a drum set. Finally, he wants to learn more about songwriting.

My area of specialty is classical music, but I’ve done some work with singer-songwriters, so I have an idea of how things work in that world. The first step to learning how to write a pop song is to see how other people have done it. So, pretty soon I will have Niru transcribe some Justin Bieber songs (his favorite artist) and we’ll analyze them. We’ll use both the Indian Bhatkande notation system that he knows, in parallel with Western notation. That way he can reinforce his Western reading skills. After we’ve analyzed a few tunes, he’ll try to make some of his own.

Again, something I NEVER expected to be doing in India!

Practicing

I enjoy practicing. I always have. Ever since I was 10 years old I’ve loved nothing more than getting behind my instruments and working things out.

Practicing is my main job here in India. I start first thing in the morning, at about 6:00 a.m. I make a cup of Indian coffee, start up the drone box, and begin singing a raga. This first practice we call “Kharaj” and it focuses on the low register. I do this for about 30 minutes. Then I usually compose at the computer for at least an hour.

Then to the gym for a workout, shower, breakfast, and then the motorcycle ride to Gurukul. Once I’m there I warm up for another 30 minutes or so, then I have a lesson with Ramakantji, then Umakantji. Each lesson is about 30 minutes.

Then I go home and play my drumming practice pad for an hour. (It’s important that I keep my Western percussion chops in shape so I can resume my performing career when I get back home.)

Then I do another 30–45 minutes of raga singing, this time on “aakaar” or “ah”, as well as palta (scalar variations). This segment is done with full voice, very strong and loud. It’s like the weight lifting of singing. I rest for a bit, then sing for about two more hours. I focus on the material I learned in the lessons. All told it’s about four to five hours of singing, an hour of composing, and an hour of drumming. I also spend time listening to Guruji’s various recordings and transcribing phrases and analyzing their performances. It’s a full day. I’m working hard and making good progress. It’s fabulous.

Lessons continue . . .

Every other day I ride my scooter down to the Gurukul and have my vocal lessons. I take two lessons: one with Ramakantji and one with Umakantji. This is unusual. Most of the students work with one or the other for a while and then switch, but because I’m living “off campus” they agreed to this arrangement. It’s working really well. I do a different raga with each of them.

Their styles are different. Ramakantji tends to favor a softer, mellower tone color for the voice. His own voice is like golden silk. It’s unbelievably smooth and elegant. Trying to match his tone and pitch precision is nearly impossible. I feel like a lumbering elephant next to him.

Umakantji has a huskier, deeper voice. He is one of the few singers in the world who can consistently reach the low “Sa”, and powerfully so. His voice is incredibly powerful and deep. It is like the voice of God. His pitch precision is also frighteningly consistent and precise. My natural vocal color is closer to Umakantji’s, and it is fun to work on the low register with him.

The lessons are one-on-one and typically last about 20 minutes each. However, there are other students in the room, sometimes as many seven or eight. This is great because I’m constantly singing with other people around. It naturally builds my confidence as a singer and I’m also able to learn things from listening to the other lessons. The community of students is quite friendly. We’re all on a never-ending path to musical bliss.

Amazing trip to India

I recently got back from a transformative month in India, studying Dhrupad vocal with the renowned Gundecha Brothers (Ramakant, Umakant, and Akhilesh). I worked with Ramakantji via Skype since last June, but this was my first time at their “Gurukul” where I received daily lessons.

For those of you who know me as a percussionists/composer you may find it strange that I’m taking vocal lessons, but I’ve been singing off and on for about 10 years, mostly Hindustani style. Dhrupad has always been my passion and finally things opened up in my life last year in such a way that I could devote more time to really improving as a singer. I have no delusions about becoming some great Dhrupad singer, but I’m making rapid progress and I’m already starting to use my voice with my Super Marimba project, Alarm Will Sound, and other projects. Ramakantji has been very encouraging and thinks I’ll be able to start performing in another couple years. I’m looking forward to that and I’m hoping there will be ample performance opportunities with all the yoga centers, Hindu temples, and universities here in the NYC area.

The Gurukul is a wonderful place and I very much enjoyed getting to know all the other students. As with any community of people there are disagreements and bickering from time to time, but in general I found the students to be exceptionally gracious and kind. Everyone seemed to be walking on clouds most of the time, due to the experience of singing Dhrupad and studying with the master Gundecha Brothers. It’s a very nourishing music that gives one energy and hope and the feeling of being very grounded. I didn’t encounter any of the cynicism and negativity that so badly pollutes the classical music community in America, especially with orchestras. I can’t wait to go back there. It really felt like home.