The London Symphony Orchestra has finally deigned to notice what the subcontinent has known for half a century: Ilaiyaraaja is a genius. The orchestra’s tribute to the Indian composer’s 50-year career is a rare moment of cultural honesty. Here in the West, we are so consumed with our own musical decadence, our autotuned pop and algorithmic claptrap, that we have forgotten what it means to weave melody into the fabric of a nation’s soul.
Ilaiyaraaja did not just write songs. He scored the emotional life of millions. His 7,000 compositions are a testament to the fact that true artistry is not niche.
It is universal. The London Symphony Orchestra, in its wisdom, has belatedly validated this truth. But let us not pretend this is a discovery.
It is a long overdue admission. The West is finally catching up to the East. And about time, too.
