In a development that has left the classical music establishment spluttering into their post-concert sherry, the Indian composer Ilaiyaraaja (aged 80, but with the vigour of a man half his age who has just discovered TikTok fails) is continuing to reshape the very fabric of music. The maestro, who has scored over 1,000 films and composed more melodies than there are gin bottles in my personal collection, now finds himself the unlikely object of desire for UK orchestras who are apparently lining up to collaborate with him like teenagers outside a One Direction reunion tour.
This is the same man who once said, 'Music is mathematics for the soul,' a statement that simultaneously makes perfect sense and sounds like the ramblings of a man who has spent too long in a recording studio without adequate ventilation. Indeed, Ilaiyaraaja's output is so prolific that even the most ardent fans struggle to keep up, a fact that must surely be a source of profound comfort to copyright lawyers everywhere.
The news that British orchestras are queuing up for a piece of this Indian musical volcano comes as a refreshing antidote to the usual cultural claptrap that dominates the headlines. Here we have a true original, a man who blends Western classical traditions with Indian folk and Carnatic complexity, creating a fusion that sounds less like a compromise and more like a glorious argument between the strings and the percussion section that somehow ends in a standing ovation.
Critics, of course, are already sharpening their pencils. 'Is this cultural appropriation?' they will ask, while simultaneously booking seats for the Royal Albert Hall. 'Will the orchestras understand the rhythmic complexities?' they will wonder, oblivious to the fact that Ilaiyaraaja's music has been danced to by millions of Bollywood extras who don't read music but can certainly feel it in their bones.
But let's be honest, the real story here is the sheer absurdity of a man in his eighth decade still being described as 'reshaping music'. At an age when most people are content with gardening and complaining about the youth of today, Ilaiyaraaja is doing what he has always done: turning sounds into gold. The UK orchestras, I suspect, are less interested in cultural exchange and more in latching onto a legend before the last note fades. But who can blame them? In a world of auto-tuned mediocrity, Ilaiyaraaja is a welcome blast of old-fashioned genius, with a dash of Eastern magic thrown in.
So here's to the maestro. May his orchestrations continue to baffle and delight. And may the British orchestras remember that genius, like gin, is best consumed in moderation but with a sense of wonder. The queue is long, but the reward is eternal.
