f less can be more, few people can make more out of less than the incredible Swarup Hossain, playing the tabla at this past Classical Music Festival at Chhayanaut in Dhanmondi. Think what a tabla is: nothing more physically than skin stretched over a sounding box. But just as brilliant actors wearing masks can amplify emotions with their facial expressions concealed, musicians like Swarup can turn the seeming limitations of a drum into not only a whole orchestra, but also a troupe of actors playing out all manner of dramas.
Swarup’s playing seemed impossible: His instruments can sound gentle and reflective, and then take off into rounds of complex rhythmic intensity where every sound is heard with absolute clarity. Avoiding the slightest muddiness as Swarup does demands incredible virtuosity; and the coloration that gives life to his music making is an act of genius. Every few seconds seemed to bring a new revelation of rhythm and timbre from Swarup’s instruments and the disbelief grew: how can a musician extract such exhilaration from such a simple device, make a drum more expressive than a trumpet or a violin?
At a different session during the festival, Swarup joined flautist Murtaza Murad, his densely woven percussion fabric offering a trampoline from which Murtaza’s flute could take off into flights of fancy.
Murtaza extracted beguiling sounds from his instrument: he uses the flute’s woodiness to produce rich dark coloration. At times Murtaza’s music was mournfully reflective - a deeply human song without words, perhaps for a lover seeking his lost beloved. And then the music would soar, and Murtaza’s endless agility produced sounds of rapture: perhaps the lovers were reunited after all.
