Faced
with institutionalized and social racism, the youth belonging to these three
religions found escape in a cultural expression from the land of their
forefathers. As they live in a climate where their educational achievements
are higher than the national average yet they face higher unemployment, this
musical hybrid, born out of cultural cross-fertilization, has become very
important in the formation of their identity.
The
experience has not been limited to the United Kingdom alone. Canadian-Asian
DJ Kazi says, “Minorities identify more easily with music that comes out
of struggle, and the African-American music industry was all about that
until it went mainstream very recently” (Najm). Musical influences on
modern bhangra include reggae, dub, soul, rap, and hip-hop, but underlying
it all is the essential dhol drumming. The dhol is a percussion instrument
slung on the shoulder and played on both sides with sticks. Writer Fatima
Njam describes the bhangra dance scene in Canada as similar to any
club-scene.
Twenty-two-year-old
Ahmed Sabawalla grew up in hip-hop until a friend introduced him to bhangra.
“Bhangra had to get some hip-hop in there to appeal to us. It’s our
reality, and bhangra from my parent’s time is still good stuff to dance to
at weddings, but ripping it up with rhymes has really brought it home to
us” (Najm).
DJ
Rekha Malhotra, who runs a dance hall in New York, describes what is
happening: “Music is often a celebration, and I think that’s the place
of Bhangra, it’s celebratory. I think that because it gained its currency
in the British diaspora, a lot of it was fantasizing; creating an idyllic
homeland, an imagined Punjab—I think that is really important, it became
the most important cultural issue to cope with. The music recreates the
Punjab, even though some of the people performing and singing it were born
in Britain and might not even have been there. We meet people from England
who never made it back.”
The
support for this music form today has prolonged the life of the traditional
instruments. In 1991, master drummer Johnny Kalsi founded the Dhol
Foundation in the United Kingdom to teach traditional Indian instruments
according to a professional standard. He has taught hundreds of young
British Asians to play the dhol and has also performed and traveled with
various bands (Pandohar).
British-born
Panjabi MC, who works only with electronic turntables, was asked to teach
rap while at college. His love for soul and reggae artists James Brown and
Bob Marley led him to spend his college fee on a S1000 Akai sampler.
“Without doubt, the sampler is the most important advance since the
guitar,” he says. “I can play the keyboards and read a little music, but
the sampler is the foundation that my music is built upon. The reason why
there are so many people involved in the production side of Bhangra is that
people are no longer in awe of technology; it has become secondary to the
creative process. It’s just a tool that you switch on … just like a
PC.”
With
the renaissance of traditional bhangra in the 1990s, Panjabi MC went back to
India to record the father figures of Punjabi music in a way never witnessed
before. Back home in England, he laced it with vocals of kuldip to
“return” the music to the United Kingdom, and added the musical mixes
and rhythms he wanted (Heer).
A
Meaning Lost a Meaning Gained
Warehouse
parties are no longer exclusive to the West. In a wealthy part of South
Delhi, warehouse parties take place without taking any of the rules,
regulations, or etiquette of any of the three religions into account. Modern
bhangra is played alongside Western popular music, even though the context
of social struggle faced by the young Asians in the diaspora is completely
absent here.
With
their fast cars, hi-tech, and commercial entertainment, they are very much
integrated into the process of globalization. One young Indian explains the
appeal of modern bhangra to the Indian upper classes:
“We
are no longer only consumers of other people’s cultures—now we produce
the music that the world wants to listen to.”
But
wasn’t the bhangra boom born in the West, and hasn’t it been imported to
India? “Yes, but it’s Indian, don’t you understand? It’s our guys
there who are making the music.”
But
why bhangra?
“Bhangra’s
got the beat. It’s very danceable.”
Isn’t
all folk music danceable?
“I
guess.”
“Remember
dandiya (popular Gujurati music in the 80s)?” asks an older
listener.
That
was danceable. So why has it been replaced by bhangra?
“Simple.
Earlier, the Gujjus (Gujaratis) were the single largest expatriate
population. Now, the Punjus [Punjabis] have taken over. And so has their
music.”
Yes,
that is simple. Too simple, maybe? But why don’t we hear gidda? It’s
from Punjab and as danceable as bhangra.
“Simple.
Gidda is women’s song. How can men sing or dance to it? Bhangra is men’s
song. So everybody can dance to it.”
A
man passionate about his music provides a different explanation: “It’s
all a question of identification,” he says. “Bhangra has become
associated in the popular mind with the culture of Punjab. This has happened
because of Hindi films, which have used bhangra more than any other Punjabi
folk form. People now think that Bhangra is all there is to Punjabi music.
Much of what we hear today is nowhere near bhangra, but it is all called by
the same name because of the use of the dhol. Anything on the dhol and with
some balle balle (a generic cry expressing happiness) or kudiye
(Punjabi for girl) is just assumed to be bhangra.”
So
what is it? “Most of it is kitsch. You know, just taken from here and
there and mixed together. Whatever works, works. Then we get to hear a
million variations of that till something else clicks. In the meantime, of
course, music companies have made millions.”
Reporter
Sudhyana Deshpende completes the picture: “Bhangra has come full circle.
Created by the hardy Punjabi peasant to celebrate harvests, marriages, and
other joyous occasions, it was exported by his expatriate grandson to the
West. There it was remixed with the techno, rap, and reggae of black
neighborhoods and with Hindi film music as well. Thus reinvented, it was
exported back to India by large record labels, which make enormous profits
in the process. Here in India, it helps rich kids of an increasingly
Westernized elite rediscover their own rural heritage. In completing this
loop, of course, bhangra loses all links with the material life of the
peasants who created it. But who cares? It’s paaaartyyyy time!
(Deshpande).
Some
still do care, the traditionalists for example. The question is do the
conditions for whatever good bhangra has to offer still exist in the modern
world, or are they lost in the process of boosting the listeners’
adrenaline?
