The Score Magazine Sept 2018 | Page 20

SHREYA BOSE INDIE REVIEWS Zaraasa (Pavan Gaikwad): Debuts are a good thing. It means someone else decided that they were going to deafen their inner monologue of self-doubt, and do something that they love. When it comes to musical debuts, I tend to be especially pleased, simply because I obsess about indie music in this country. Gaikwad’s initiation into solo musicianship is characterised by an EP that is an easy addition to lazy days. Four songs, sung in Hindi with a lilt towards wistful what-ifs and if-onlys. He focuses on the parts of life that are usually ignored in the midst of honking buses and deadlines, and tries to draw attention to the more fleeting things, like actual human feelings. Musically, Gaikwad keeps the arrangement pared down into uncomplicated chords. “Berang” and “Tum Aur Main” stand out for being particularly pleasant. However charming they might be, the songs do tend to be on the simplistic side on this. There is nothing to criticise about any of them, but they fall short of being memorable. Nonetheless, one can feel optimistic about the quality of Zaraasa, and quite sure about the fact that his forthcoming undertaking on tonality will be worthy of anticipation. 18 The Score Magazine highonscore.com Awaaz (Ady Manral): Ady Manral live in the foothills of the Himalayas. He creates songs in a misty world that has been the site of endless literary and cinematic magic. Naturally, when he sings, you can hear the wistfulness of a place that we tend to equate with dreams. Two years ago, Mantal recorded Awaaz in the middle of monsoons washing his mountainous hometown. Clearly he seems to possess a poetic bend, as he took to singing the song once again on a similar day, his music punctuated by the sound of a downpour outside his window. The song is a simple expression of wonderment. It is immediately relatable, as it talks about nothing in particular. There’s talk of looking for a certain something or someone, but the image formed is of an indefinable sentiment rather than a human figure. Manral has an unusual voice, but that doesn’t make much of a difference. Much pleasure is to be taken in these few minutes, and it calls for very little analysis. It's just there without the need for too many qualifiers. An odd relief emerges from this.