The Last Dance

Of wintry nights, the smell of food wafting over from the caterer’s end and jubilant toasts to the wedding couple.

“But it’s as good as over now. The 10 pm deadline for loudspeakers, the cost factor—recorded music comes at half the price—and the banning of bands at some venues sounded the death knell for wedding bands in the city a long time back,” says D’Souza.

D’Souza is fortunate in that his band still survives, because for the rest—and there were at least 25 good ones in the 1970s—it was all over a long time back. And what put them out of business, along with court rulings and the like, was the emergence of DJs, sequenced music and bhangra-pop in the mid to late 1990s. Most importantly, a DJ costs Rs 4,000 or less, while a decent band charges about Rs 15,000.

Engelbert Fernandes, 33, is among those who’ve been through it. A singer with Ensync, a five-piece wedding band that shut shop a year ago, Fernandes had no option but to go solo. “One-man-shows work to my advantage—I can practise at my own pace. And it’s better money,” he admits.

And he’s not doing too badly for himself—he was the emcee for Soha Ali Khan’s recent birthday party and also sings at big bashes thrown by the Ambanis and Godrejs, sometimes a Blue Suede Shoes and, at others, a Koi Mil Gaya.

Cyril and Rosita Coutinho play at Out of the Blue, a restaurant in the suburbs, every second Friday, with the former’s sax accompanying Rosita’s jazz numbers.

The Coutinhos were part of Seven Galaxy, a seven-piece band which played exclusively at weddings for 20 years. They called it a day in 1998.

“Advanced keyboards and sequenced music became a packaged deal. And it was frustrating to see talented musicians become keyboard players overnight,” grumbles Cyril.

This jazz lover now waits for jam sessions where four people meet and give a classic jazz performance at a city hotel. “I enjoy that the most,” he says.

The six to seven bands that are battling on, no longer have tightly packed bookings. They’ve all diversified, playing at hotels and corporate events.

“A band can’t survive with just one gig a month,” points out Titus Mendes, band leader and base guitarist of Crimson Rage, a seven-piece band that was hugely popular in the early 1970s.

And if corporate gigs sounded cheap, they took to teaching. George Thomas, 54, sensed the impending doom and launched his music classes. Today, he has 23 students and more money. But he misses the thrill of playing the guitar. “I experience an itch to play. When you play for a band, there is scope for improvisations, lest you get rusty,” he sighs.

With never having had to play Indipop, bands today have to deliver at least five such song tracks if they want to be on the couple’s wedding band list. They play almost four sessions and 25 song tracks starting with the quick step, rock-n-roll, rap, jive, techno to the waltz, cha cha cha and conclude with the wedding fiesta. But the buzz can’t be fully revived.

And even people like Jeanne Pereira, 26, are small consolation. Pereira, who booked the Bonaventures for her recent wedding, says, “They are expensive, but they made my wedding elegant and classy. That’s something no DJ can ever do.”

But former band member Clarence Dias, who plays for a group that does corporate shows, senses the onset of an irreversible denouement. “Back then, we thought it was a temporary phase. But seven years have gone and the band industry hasn’t moved. Those days have now gone forever.”