
The group of young men seated around the table in the Vibe Bar might be computer programmers. They certainly talk like computer programmers, spewing out strings of nonsensical digits, speaking in codes, digital this, analogue that, 70 something or other. But, of course, these are not computer programmers. Or at least that is not how they would describe themselves. These are musicians, musos, gathered at the heart of one of the most happening places on the planet.
The Vibe Bar is semi-attached to the Truman Brewery building in Brick Lane, East London, home to a sprawling complex of artists8217; studios, exhibition spaces, recording studios, and coffee bars. This is, or would like to be, Bangla Town, the Asian community8217;s answer to Chinatown, the hub of a creative, commercial, social whirl. And at the centre of the storm stands Talvin Singh: tabla player, producer, DJ, musician, promoter, polymath and traveller.
Singh has been around the block, several times, graduating from carrying his tablashome on the bus in the early days to his current status as the man most likely to, the centre of a nascent Asian scene who could just consolidate it and push it into the mainstream. The son of non-musical parents 8212; his father is a computer engineer 8212; who moved to London from Uganda, he in turn upped and went to India at the age of 15 to study tablas, armed with Pound 200 in traveller8217;s cheques.
He stayed for two years. 8220;I was a hyperactive kid,8221; he says, peering intently when we speak later in an adjacent coffee bar, all Asian chic cushions and rugs, 8220;so drumming was a way of getting tension out of my system8221;.
But on his return from India, he says, he found resistance from Indian music promoters, concerned that while the kid could play, he wasn8217;t playing the right thing, and even refused to wear the right clothes. The antagonism seemed to fire him, pushing him into other musics, other worlds, where his talents as a tabla player could be appreciated on their own merits.
8220;I startedstudying off a great master when I was 16. Before that I learnt by myself. I worked really hard, man. I learnt by listening and I played in a really strange way because I listened so much, I practised so much. But I had an edge in my playing that people loved. I had this amazing vibe but I was always among people who were older than me and it frustrated me. I didn8217;t have my own voice. It8217;s a problem of every classical music culture. They8217;re all full of bureaucracy. And then they complain about Asian kids not getting into classical music and it8217;s because they8217;re kept away from it. But Indian music is not really classical anyway, it8217;s more improvised within a theme, it8217;s more like jazz.8221;
Fittingly, he first nudged the public consciousness playing with Courtney Pine and the Jazz Warriors, before moving on to appear with Bjork, supporting Bowie and Massive Attack, remixing Led Zepellin and Madonna, and playing with Sun Ra. Anokha, a seminal club night at The Blue Note in the heart of another emerging part ofhappening London, Hoxton Square, spawned a compilation album, Soundz of the Asian Underground. The label stuck, with anybody who so much as picked up a sitar 8212; from Cornershop to Asian Dub Foundation to Kula Shaker 8212; being dubbed the latest incarnation of the latest trend.
His maverick talents and extensive contacts book have earned him the nickname 8216;Talvin Stardust8217; among the less generous members of the Asian community. But the respect he seems to yearn, despite the apparent lack of self-doubt, could be forthcoming with the release next week of his first solo album, OK. Recorded over nine months in destinations ranging from Okinawa to Chennai to New York, OK is something of a triumph, fusing ambient and jungle with a truly human touch, all informed by the Indian classical tradition that provides the backbone to Singh8217;s work.
The first single, Traveller, is a haunting, mesmeric piece, with the ethereal vocals of Cleveland Watkiss floating over a shifting ambient beat. The follow-upsingle, the title track, is more suited to radio, featuring a squeaky, choppy female choir chirruping away to a junglist rhythm. As an exercise in musical anthropology it is impressive and coherent, a verdict shared by its creator.
8220;What do you think of the album?8221; he asks, before answering himself. 8220;I think its an incredible album. I8217;ve just realised that recently. I didn8217;t feel like that when I first finished it. I think it8217;s the kind of album that will stay for a while and people will recognise it after five years.8221; Encompassing many different styles 8212; one track features exclusively Japanese instruments 8212; OK resists the travelogue pick8217;n8217;mix style of some multi-culturalists.
8220;It8217;s not fusion music,8221; says Singh, 8220;it8217;s not crossover, because I don8217;t separate music. If you don8217;t separate it you don8217;t need to fuse it or cross it over. You just treat it as one element. Whatever it is, fundamentally it8217;s still a group of 12 notes.8221; Singh talks about his music in a very visual way, sketchingout colours and images with his hands to describe sounds. Often, he says, he will have the video in his mind before the music.
His next project, however, promises to be a more wordy affair. 8220;I8217;m totally doing different things. My next album8217;s going to be quite mad, probably just a lot of strings and tablas. I8217;m going to get Vikram Seth to do a track, Hanif Kureishi, Arundhati Roy, so it8217;s going to be a very spoken-word-musical-beats album, very low-key.8221;
8212; The Observer News Service