Remember Shakti Saturday Night in Bombay

From the very opening few licks of this new album, straight away you get the feeling that this is more buoyant lyrical music than the intense, introspective investigations that we were treated to with Remember Shakti and The Believer. It's funky, bursting with melody, and it's going to make you dance, for joy. Remember how Natural Elements felt after A Handful of Beauty? Well, here we go again.

Each incarnation of Remember Shakti produces a sound very much reflective of it's musicians. The original 1997 tour conjured aural visages of desert's dawn, all was peace, all was calm. Hariprasad Chaurasia's winged bansuri flew us beyond the clouds to dream palaces in the mind. Then The Believer burnt our wings with the concert pyrotechnics that had us, the global audience, stunned throughout the subsequent touring, made us clamour for encore after encore, and never sent us home disappointed. Now Saturday Night In Bombay celebrates Shakti's return with a very special recording indeed - this IS history, shared over 2 nights, in a very fitting place, by a very lucky audience.

This time a festival of music in Mumbai presented a new source of musical influence for tapping. Keep the time nurtured relationship, the Shakti core that has opened our ears each time they lay hands on guitar, tabla, mandolin, kanjira, ghatam, mridangam, but add to this recipe a little more spice, a broader palate, a little more fire. Bring in the permeating vocals of Shankar Mahadevan to give a sense of folk. Bring in the slide guitar of Debashish Bhattacharya for some frenetic tradeoffs. Bring in the santur of Shiv Kumar Sharma to woo our jiggle-weary limbs, and unveil yet hidden depths in this heady mixture. But augment that rhythm with an extraordinary array of drums and percussion, lest the tops of our heads fly off to transcend this mortal dwelling.

There are 4 tracks on the album running a generous total of 62:01 minutes. To start JM's Luki (5:39), the guitar sets the rhythm, calling the other ten players to the banquet. The percussion glides and Shankar Mahadevan makes the reply. The full rhythmic section slots in and soon we're bubbling, rocking along, always reciting the opening phase. This is more song-like than the raga-derived pieces of previous albums. It's a catchy foot-tapping opener with a "standard" western drum kit helping to drive the beat.

The group is slimmed back down for Shiv Kumar Sharma's lengthy Shringar (26:38) which highlights the santur, played with an eerie sensitivity that wafts the tune into consciousness. Soon the guitar assists and finally swaps places to take turns in painting the textural backdrop. The lilting theme is stated strongly at over seven minutes into the piece, defining the pace of this longer investigation, a measured cadence providing space enough for flurries of short but exquisite guitar solos inter-played with longer multi-layered explorations by santur. All this is underpinned by precocious rhythm, later tempted into a heavier thunder by the exciting guitar phrasing and a choice punctuating of the theme by santur. Unified they rise to the close, santur and kanjira blazing, then engulfed by understandably rapturous applause.

Again guitar and voice draw us gently into U. Shrivinas' Giriraj Sudha (10:45), before the mandolin interrupts to declare the playful melody, and the song takes off with a dense percussive rhythm now strengthened with tavil. It is predominantly a vocal piece, guitar echoing voice to provide a choral feel, whilst the mandolin anchors the central melody, exploring some solo territory, but never venturing too far.

Mandolin and Hindustani slide guitar set the delicate tones for Zakir Hussain's Bell'Alla (18:48), before JM's guitar enters to broaden the spectrum, a few carefully placed notes that summarise the sound that he has developed since resurrecting this divine project. The slide guitar lulls us with sitar-like cascades, and the guitar tone is warm and gentle. Entering now, four minutes in, a pulsation, a hypnotic phrase on mandolin, picked up by tabla and percussion and thrown full-bodied to unanimity. The re-introduction of the drum kit solidifies the foundations for short climbing phrases from the stringed instruments, before more open sections for solo exploration, each undersigned with a dense restating of the main figure. The slide guitar playing is astonishing, but JM takes the greatest risk here in the next solo spot, pushing the limits of the piece, searching for something new, the rhythm section in tow, riding a funky backbeat to that purer phrase, a clearer musical statement. The kanjira and tabla solos are not as extended as audiences have experienced previously plus they are kept separate with no echoed runs. The remaining drums and percussion now rejoin to really beat it out until the whole re-enter to drive the piece to a climax. The last note is met with wild exclamation, and fades out to stage introductions and appreciation for all that has passed.

The inclusion of the great guest musicians robs us of the usual magical communication heard between the core members, but we have plenty of that documented, and the extra depth and ideas make this not so much another Shakti album, but the capture of an excellent historic concert. It could only have been sensible for JM to fit into this mixture in the way that he did. Any more pronounced and he would have been conspicuous in the concerts' context. Any less and he would have disappeared. As is, he skilfully employs his sound to define a niche in the soloing space, to sit alongside the other soloists. He underplays this comping so as not to force his volume, thereby obliterating the myriad of textures provided in the rhythm.

The vocal pieces bring a whole dimension not previously experienced from Shakti recordings other than konnakol. The guitar, mandolin and Hindustani slide guitar complement to form the harmonious middle, whilst the rhythm section continues to be breathtaking. The use of a western style drum set has a profound effect on the bass dynamics and perhaps clouds some of the detail, particularly from Hussain's dagga. However, tasteful underplaying along with some brilliantly interspersed snare shots does more than just amplify the other drums, moreover positively driving the beat, perhaps even inspiring JM's rocking solo heard on the final track.

Alas, no visual media is provided with Saturday Night In Bombay as was with the special edition of The Believer. However, the occasion was filmed and perhaps greater plans are afoot. The album has a subtle cover design in the vein of it's predecessor albums, but with a noticeable return to the original Shakti script. Unfortunately, although informative and enthusiastic, the liner notes are poor, possibly losing something in translation from the author's native French, and no photographs are included that are recognisable as being from the concerts. Perhaps because of the live setting, the recording quality is a little thin, accentuating some percussive taps in the high register, and the bass a little dull, don't expect the tabla sound achieved on The Believer. The sound is not an impediment, and there is a slight improvement when listening with headphones (see below for a commentary on how it really sounded and the live experience).

But it's really about the music, and that cannot be questioned. Each piece was penned by a different author and has it's own special feel and dynamic, giving the album an incredible diversity. This is an important album for JM fans, Shakti fans, Indian music fans, fusion fans, and lovers of live music. The excitement of the event is tangible via the music, and the impulse to sing along and get up and dance is uncontrollable. In fact, da dup dada da de...