It is always difficult to return to a blog like this after a long time. One never knows, what would be the right song to choose. Should it be a subtle one or should it be like Back with a Bang kind of.
Well, this time I choose to feature a composition which is more of the latter kind.
This one is from Drohi, a Ram Gopal Verma movie, from early 90s, the time when Pancham was going through his leanest patch. It is easier for people to write off almost all his music from those days, and in the bargain lose out on some real gems, like the one featured here.
This one is a real treat, created for an interesting situation in the movie, almost similar to the situation of Le Kar Hum Deewan Dil from Yaadon ki Baraat. Of course, this was 90s, so here one has Silk Smitha, at the peark of her career, performing with her raw sensuality, while a lot more is happening in the background with Nagarjuna, taking the narrative of the movie further.
It was easy enough for a viewer to get distracted from either, and hence was left to Pancham to balance both. And he does it with a killer of a composition, using the rhythm that to me seem to have a delicate fusion of Calypso with Jazz.
During the vocals, the instruments used are such that keeps the focus on Silk. However, the pattern changes during interludes, with photography & composition both working together to underscore the grittiness of the situation. An added touch is the Maestro himself rendering his voice, alongwith Jolly Mukherjee, in a building up crescendo that culminates into Asha taking it over before the first stanza.
The second interlude is used to build up on the action with a jazz kind of trumpet going all the way, stopping only at the beginning of the second stanza with Silk, rather Slithering, Smitha; and just for a brief moment rejoins it as the stanza is about to end.
The composition was tailor made for Asha who did not have to really stretch herself too much, carrying out the task brilliantly & effortlessly, adding those Silken touch to Javed Akhtar's poetry. At the core of course remains, at the cost of repeating, indeed the killer of a composition; from the days when Pancham was not supposed to be at his best.