Sheer Melody

A mole's eye-view of the Cosmos

Some amazing songs

As I said in one of my previous posts, I have been doing a lot of rediscovering of musical roots. This is a tribute to the person responsible for making me do so... Here's a list of some unforgettable numbers with links to listen to the songs (if available)

O Sajnaa: One of those songs which exemplifies the fact that melody always stands the test of time... And emphasises my eternal belief that when the melody is good, any ornate orchestration never lends any additional beauty to the song. A gem of a song from Salil-da, blending sitar with a soothing background violin score. Marvellous!

O Alor Pathajatri: A song that has been mentioned in one my previous posts. This is one song which first made me feel the urge to learn the piano; because this was one song which had amazing harmony, and I, for the first time, found it tough to replicate the same thing on the rather puny little synth that I had at home. Amazing lyrics, amazing harmony, and an absolutely spellbinding antara make this a melody that's one of its kind.

Ki je kori: Another spellbinding number, it startles with its utter simplicity. The melody flows like a gentle stream. I could listen to this song all day and all night and never get tired. Lata's voice has never been better. Must-concentrate-parts of this song: The prelude, the soft string background, and the ravishing string interludes. Brilliant blending of the cello, the flute and the violins.

O mor moyna go: Another Salil-Lata masterpiece. This was one of his later numbers, about the time when he started getting increasingly influeced by jazz and blues. This song however shows no particular leanings towards either jazz or blues; just gives the feel of a beautiful country number. What's amazing is the way the entire song is supported by an acoustic guitar and a soft bass in the background. The flute interludes are magical, absolutely magical!!!

Wo ek nigaah kya mili: A very different number and a fiendishly complex song at the end of it all. The arpeggio by Lata is absolutely amazing. Kishore and Lata never did a better job than this. Love the situation in which the song appears in the movie. The antara melody has numerous sharp turns, curves, ups and downs all accentuating the beauty of the song.

Rim jhim jhim jhim badarva barse: Stunning melody again. The original of this song was sung by Dhananjoy Bhattacharya in the Bengali film "Paasher Bari". This was a landmark achievement in Bengali music. Bengalis had never heard such music before. Nothing is extremely special about this song, other than the melody which is simply the best I have heard in my life.

Guzar Jaye din: An unforgettable song from an utterly forgettable movie annadata. This had a Bengali version too which was hopelessly inadequate; made more so by the efortless manner in which Kishore has rendered the Hindi version. The scale progression of this song from minor to major and then to a higer scale is absolutely amazing. Also the chord progressions in the interlude are magnificient. Same is the case with antara. Beautiful progesssions everywhere :)

Ei ghoom ghoom ghumanta: An unforgettable Salil-Sabita collaboration, with amazing lyrics. The erudition of the man simply amazes me at times. Listen to the accordion interludes - interlaced with the velvety sweetness of the flute. Simply beautiful...

Ai dil kahaan teri manzil: A stunning Lata-Dwijen number. Each part of the song has a lilting feel to it, be it the soulful violin prelude, be it Dwijen's laid-back voice, or Lata's beautiful rendition of the interlude, or the intricate harmony in the second-part of the antara, this song has it all!!!

Dhitang Dhitang bole: A short and sweet masterpiece by Hemanta-da and Salil-da, nothing recreates the magic of the Bengal countryside like this song does. Love it!!!

Jodi kichhu amaare sudhao: This is one of those beautiful songs like Ki je kori, which I could listen to for ever and ever. Shyamal Mitra, in my opinion had one of the sweetest and most vulnerable voices in Bengali music, a genius who succumbed to alcohol. He sang just a few songs for Salil-da, each of them masterpieces. This song stands out amongst them for the sheer beauty of the melody and the extreme pathos in the voice.

Oi je sobuj bonobithika: This is another startling number, sung by Madhuri Chattopadhyay. She was one of those singers with a unique voice and an unbelievable range. This song easily spans over two octaves and has amazing note changes. Madhuri manages to hit the rather tricky notes efortlessly. Brilliant composition and brilliant singing...

Na jaane kyon: Very nice film, and there wasn't a better song which would fit the situation perfectly. Subtle chord variations, and one of those songs in which Lata's voice sounds strained - testifying to the complexity of the number. The melody is sacrosanct and amazes as is expected...

These are a few of the Salil favorites I have been listening to over the past few days... More later...

Noboborsho'r anusthan

Here are a few pictures of the function we had on the occasion of Bengali New Year. Am feeling quite thrilled at having been able to make a collage successfully. Picasa does work good!!! Posted by Picasa

Life is beautiful

I re-visited “Life is Beautiful” yesterday. One of my favorite movies of all time, this is one movie which has received its fair share of criticism and applause. Ferociously criticized for trivializing the gory details of the holocaust, it has angered the left wing in Italy and a lot of other countries which had been pained by those six years from 1939 to 1945. In spite of this, I choose to take a rather liberal stand with the movie. Maybe, I am exempted from feeling any rage for the basic fact that I was in no way related to the holocaust. However, there are two movies which have really influenced me in forming my views on the holocaust; “Life is Beautiful” is one of them. The other, of course, is Schindler’s List, another landmark achievement. But well, that’s the topic of another post.

Life is beautiful delves into the power of humor to alleviate all of life’s sufferings. Most importantly, it delivers the message that life is always beautiful, provided you choose to make it so. Benigni is widely regarded as the Jim Carey of Europe, but none of his previous movies managed to evoke the charm and freshness which this movie does. Put very simply, this movie is a poetic romantic comedy of survival in the face of overwhelming odds.

The movie has two defining acts which form its structure – one before the war, and the latter, a few years later - during the war. Guido, played by Benigni, is a small town man, who has come to the city to take a job as a waiter in a lavishly elegant restaurant. It is here that he meets and falls in love with his wife (also his real-life wife) – Nicolleta Braschi. What follows is forty-five minutes of humorous courtship – quirky at times, and overbearing at times. And in between all this courtship the couple stumbles upon several instances of hatred, rage and dissent – seeds of bigotry showing the fascists’ rise to power. Soon, we realize that Guido is Jewish. It is at this juncture that comedy is quickly replaced with a sense of despair, evident on everyone but Guido. Signs of anti-Semitism appear all around, and Guido is forced to fall back on comedy as the only refuge – the only way to shield their innocent son from the horrors of the Third Reich. Guido and his son are soon captured and transferred to one of the numerous concentration camps; and Guido’s instinct for self-preservation develops a much-needed urgency and energy. The non-working children and elderly are condemned to sure death; forcing Guido to hide the young kind in the camp. Elaborate rules of a non-existent game are formed, promising wondrous rewards for the winner, to shield the young lad from the horrors of the camp. Guido uses all his wits to save the one soul that he loves, in a world of unimaginable horror.

The movie is not (repeat, not) technically brilliant. It lacks a basic form, structure and the comedy in the first half is surprisingly flat at times. In spite of all these basic flaws, technical and non-technical, the movie scores because of the sheer weight of human emotion which overpowers you at the end. The ability to laugh is what distinguishes humans from animals, and it feels strange to wonder and actually imagine that after all, it was humans who created and nurtured the horrors of the concentration camp. What this film does essentially is champion the cause of humor over hatred, love of anger. The first half may seem like a romantic farce, but it triumphs because it manages to show terror, hatred, racism and the constant threat of death in the air without any explicit imagery. It lets people use their imaginations, making the horror even more powerful, more palpable. At the end of the day, the lyricism of the movie outweighs the lack of subtlety. It is Benigni’s wonderful message about the ability of the human spirit to triumph, that makes this movie worth watching, time and again…

Postscript: The film's title came from Russian revolutionary Leon Trotsky, who wrote that he believed ''life is beautiful,'' even as he sat trapped in a bunker, waiting for Stalin's agents to assassinate him. Benigni found the statement profound, saying ''I fell in love with this simple phrase, 'Life is beautiful.' Even with darkness all around us, we can still find beauty. That is true strength.''

Don't think twice, it's all right

This post is dedicated to one of music's most amazing poets - Bob Dylan.

Dylan has spellbound me for ages. For ages I have listened to his music - waiting for something to spring right out of the blue - a thought, a feeling, a premise which I am acquainted with, yet unknowingly, did not know how to put... I feel a desire to listen to his words, immortalize them, a self-perpetuating situation.

What I like best about this man, is his ability to drive the point home. As he sings, he lets the listener reflect on the world around him, lets him get a new perspective of things. There were scores of other artists who had the same sentiments, which brings us to the point - what made Dylan so special? Well, there is only one thing - it was him, and himself alone on a totally personal level. He came to New York to make it big, told everyone that he was an orphan from New Mexico, and snubbed his upbringing for many many years. For the common man, for the youth, it made him larger than life - it made him the spokesman for the younger generation. He sings the song "Don't think twice, it's all right", inspiring and desiring to be a rambling, easy-to-forget lover, and quite amazingly exposes all his intrinsic vulnerabilities to the entire world. The honesty of his lyrics endeared him to the masses with amazing constancy.

What I like best about his music, is that he is always on the point, relentless, never stopping to take a breather. He doesn't aim or promise to take us to heaven, he just tries to define the confusion we live in, give us a certain level of understanding, howsoever minute; most of all, his music gives us strength...

It ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe
It don't matter, anyhow
An' it ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe
If you don't know by now
When your rooster crows at the break of dawn
Look out your window and I'll be gone
You're the reason I'm trav'lin' on
Don't think twice, it's all right

It ain't no use in turnin' on your light, babe
That light I never knowed
An' it ain't no use in turnin' on your light, babe
I'm on the dark side of the road
Still I wish there was somethin' you would do or say
To try and make me change my mind and stay
We never did too much talkin' anyway
So don't think twice, it's all right

It ain't no use in callin' out my name, gal
Like you never did before
It ain't no use in callin' out my name, gal
I can't hear you any more
I'm a-thinkin' and a-wond'rin' all the way down the road
I once loved a woman, a child I'm told
I give her my heart but she wanted my soul
But don't think twice, it's all right

I'm walkin' down that long, lonesome road, babe
Where I'm bound, I can't tell
But goodbye's too good a word, gal
So I'll just say fare thee well
I ain't sayin' you treated me unkind
You could have done better but I don't mind
You just kinda wasted my precious time
But don't think twice, it's all right


And you run and you run to catch up with the sun, but its sinking
And racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in the relative way, but youre older
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death
Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the english way
The time is gone, the song is over, thought Id something more to say

Bombay meri jaan

Last day in Bombay

A month back, I wrote a post - finding myself on a watershed. Today, I am in a different place; I have left Bombay and I find myself wandering. Not a minstrel yet, but close... Today, as I sit in my office on Cunningham Road and look out on the road, I feel strange... I feel an emptiness, a strange kind of a void... I feel strange at having left Bombay - I wanna sit back, relax and ponder on those amazing times. And I realize how wrong I was in actually believing that Bombay did not have a soul. Well, compared to some other cities in the country - it has oodles and oodles of it...

I spent close to three years in Bombay, and to be quite frank I was never in love with the city as are most of it's long-term residents. It's only today, as I sit in Bangalore, that I realize how much the city had become a part of me; and how tough it was to let go. That's when I realized that it's not a soul which endears a city to you, it's the people, and at some rather philosophically intrinsic level, the people of Bombay did endear themselves to me...

I find it logical and opportune at this point of time to edit my previous post on the few things which I feel defined Bombay, and made it all the more special...

Marine Drive: Over-rated, yet beautiful. The crowning charm of the city. Nothing comes close to a leisurely stroll along the promenade on a windy, rainy, stormy afternoon, the wind buffetting through your clothes, the spray on your face. Pausing to stop by Chowpatty to nibble on a bhutta, staring out at the ocean, and cursing the vagaries of life...

Cafe Mondegar: This is and will remain my favorite pub. The only place which comes close to it is Someplace Else in Calcutta, and probably Pecos in Bangalore. Leisurely summer and winter weekends spent with pitchers of beer, and surly waiters conspicous by their rudeness. Follow it up with a cab-ride up Marine Drive to Malabar Hill and back... Hog on the fish fingers and chips - and amaze at the way they melt in your mouth. Yuppie culture at its best. Intellectual conversation conflicting and co-existing with utterly banal crap. Minors drinking beers... on the house. The omnipresent queue at the entrace. The compulsory five minutes waiting time - stretching to fifteen or more... The inconspicuous juke-box at the corner. I still haven't managed to figure out why they have it there... A deeper philosophical question... one that requires an ample dose of Vitamin G.

NCPA: This was one of my favorite haunts in Bombay, and combined with the rather laid-back ambience of Prithvi theatre, these were the two places in Bombay which uphold and bolster quality theatre. As an art form, theatre has taken the back seat in a city, where Bollywood inspite of all its idiosyncracies holds ultimate sway. The experimental theatre never fails to transfer you to a different world, a utopian existence, an existence where acting is admired for its sheer merit, a world in which the force of a story is enough to captivate and enthrall you for two full hours, and a world in which the gaudy costumes, inane dances and glorious technicolor have no role at all.

Hotel New Bengal: This place is special for three people - me,
Arunava, and Sunil. Our first shelter in the tumultous city, the size of the rooms in this hotel never ceases to amaze me. Also, the big table fan on the ceiling. It never made sense then, it makes even lesser sense now. I remember the place for its balcony, overlooking the busy street adjoining Crawford Market, where the three of us sat on that lonely summer evening, smoked a pack of cigarettes, watching the buses pass, with child-like enthusiasm tinged with apprehension. I remember this place for the time I spent with my love, her first time in the city; when I finally realized how much I loved her.

Dance bars: A stay in Bombay is incomplete without a visit to one of these ubiquitious places. It was indeed a sad day for all of us when all of them shut down to appease the cheif ministers moral police. All said and done, Bombay's night life has and will always be defined by these places. I still remember those crazy times, starting with Guddi, continuing with Laxmi Palace, and ending with a rather anti-climactic trip to White House. The gaudy dresses, a few beautiful dancers, and gallons of beer combined to make some of those nights the most expensive and enjoyable times of our lives. Sometimes, we do chide ourselves for all the stupidity, but what the hell - it was an experience and definitely one worth having.

Local Trains: I still remember my first time in a Bombay local. Vile Parle station. The fast train comes in. It is chock-full, there does not seem to be an inch of space within. The people shout – “Khali train hai, array, khali train hai” (The train is empty, get on, the train is empty). We are dumbfounded and watch it pass, while the rest of the platform clamors into it, somehow and moves on. We wait for the next train; the platform crowds up all over again, and miss it too. Bombay locals give a true out-of-the-world experience. Nothing comes close to it.

Juhu at night: This is the place where everything happens. Whoring, drugging and gang-fighting. We did not see any of the third but we saw plenty of the first two. Girls in auto-rickshaws moving up and down the road, looking for prospective suitors (if such a word does justice); smoking marijuana in the middle of the street; this was the place where all rules just stopped making any sense. It still does, but seems toned down now. Possibly the dance bar ban has gone some way in enforcing morality on the people?

Goa Trip: Not related to Bombay in any way, but this remains and will forever remain the high point of my stay in this city. Plans made in a dead-drunk state in the middle of the night, these plans of going to Goa finally did materialize just after the tsunami struck. People did their level best to dissuade us but we persisted with what we had thought, and made the trip to heaven and back. It was one experience which will stay forever imprinted in the deeper recesses of my mind. This was a trip which gave me new friends, a new way of looking at life and a zest for living each moment for the sake of the moment.

Bombay has made me a different individual, it made me lose faith in love, and then it made me regain the same in a totally different manner. It made me understand the value of money, and the transparency of dreams. It made me feel for hundreds of people who make this city their home. It always amazes me how it finds a way out for every one of the teeming millions who stay here. Bombay never inspired me emotionally, and it only satiated me physically, to the limits of exhaustion. But it did make me a different person, less affected by emotional strife and a tougher response to situations. At some level, it did make me a better person.


A moonless night. The beach was deserted. The only thing which made itself heard was the sound of angry waves crashing against battered cliffs. Deafening, yes, but music to my ears. I walked down the beach. It was truly, utterly deserted. One shack was open. Two ineffectual lanterns tried their level best to throw light all around. They failed miserably. The wind felt ferocious. It also felt like a calming influence. I lay down on the couch – Kingfisher in my hands. I felt the chill of the beer as it cooled my throat. Every sensation was heightened, every feeling was romanticized.

I tried to count the stars, but failed. I felt a strange high, but could not place it. I looked at my friends; they all were at peace with themselves. Love lost its meaning; Romance suddenly forged newer dimensions in our tormented minds. The light from the lantern formed strange figurines on the dark walls of the towering cliffs on both sides. And at that moment, the beauty of the place impressed itself upon us, in all its grandeur, simplicity and serenity.

This, my friends, was Goa in its most pristine form. A place I can go back again and again and never get bored.

The circle

I've said all my farewells, now there's nowhere to go
Out on my window, I can see the falling snow
You were always out of your place in this unknown world
No! You're leaving; and there is no use believing in defeat
Baby it is a little strange now, when the circle completes.

I hope you're never lonely, you'd be so deserted when it is quiet
There's a road leading away from here, baby why don't you try it?
Is there something that you are waiting for, does your strength lie in your weakness?
The clouds are rumbling, I know you are stumbling down the street
Baby you can't look back again when the circle completes.

This town is all a-sleeping, the people and their faces are all faint
I keep trying to tell him, you know they are all making a mistake
The doors are all locked out, some people just can't do without change
The clouds, they are frowning the people are drowning in conceit
Baby it's a little strange now when the circle completes

Lying comes so natural, I've done it so many times before
But I do believe every day that there's someone who keeps the score
But victory always comes with a bitterness that never seems to fade
We're travelling to innocence, but don't you know some things never repeat?
Babe don't complain now the circle does complete...

Nandi Hills

Here is a collage of the pics I took during our trip to Nandi Hills. Heavenly weather, and a light drizzle combined to make it a really romantic afternoon. Just wished Sumana was here to share the moment...

Nerve Gas

So I gaze at the watch tower buildings
And unpleasant shadows are all that I see
People around trying to gaze at the future
Trying to predict where we all are gonna be
The walls of fate I can see up ahead
And my feelings are all making me small
And I think for want of answer
It happened for no reason at all.

The man down the highway he just asked me
If the end of the world was near at hand
He found words in the sunset to write for his eyes
But he felt sure that I would understand
So I cast my eyes at the dead and the living
And men gathered like crowds in a hall
And replied that it was all in the stars
That shine for no good reason at all.

The walls closed dim and the shadows were twisting
And words and deeds were daring the night
The fire raged and the wind, it was whistling
And the world just stared at the sight
And I wondered if justice was beautiful
Then what makes kings to sometime have to crawl
Nothing could tell me the reason
There was no good reason at all.

My life it stretches out like a story
Written in pieces and stretching so far
With puppets on strings in all painted glory
Dancing to tunes older than the stars
And I look at the flying wishes of preachers
Screamed out from mountains so very tall
And strained out to hear what they are saying
But they were saying nothing at all.

And now the years are passing like blind hurried strangers
Who recognize nothing but their own coming end
And the world is spinning and the times they are twisting
To all be someone or to simply pretend
And huddled on sidewalks are those worn out paupers
Who are still waiting for someone to pause
Waiting to go where they haven't been
Waiting for no good reason at all.

I'm tied down by these chains of sorrow
My head lies on a cast iron bed
And if I only knew where I would be tomorrow
You'd know just exactly how I felt
In the hero's door the world put their flowers
For every great man must sometime have to fall
In the hero's door the world put their flowers
Who died for no reason at all.

And city strangers they meet at my window
And my life lies beneath the soles of my shoes
I've found an answer to every hidden question
No longer satisfied with another excuse
And my words have found meaning in all their silence
And now they are shining, shining through the dawn
I wonder now how I'd feel if somebody told me
It was for no reason at all.


The last few days have been spent re-discovering my roots. By roots, I would clarify – my innate Bengali roots. And in the process of doing so, I realized that, all said and done, I owe my musical upbringing to my father, more than anyone else in this whole wide world.

The story goes thus:
When I was little (I don’t remember how little, of course); my dad used to play these few cassettes, out of which, I felt, a few stood out. And in them, were these recordings of patriotic songs by Calcutta Youth Choir, musically directed and arranged by Salil Chowdhury. Of course, there were other albums which I listened to over and over again; most prominently, Richard Clayderman In concert, Music of an Arabian Night by Ron Goodwin, and of course, The ultimate classical collection. The last three are musical genres which most people would be familiar with, if not in love with. However, I have spent the last couple of weeks, exploring, re-discovering and realizing the amazing genius of Salil Chowdhury.

It all started in Tokyo, as I was surfing the net till the wee hours of the morning, when I stumbled upon this site:, and I realized the treasures which it contained. The song I started with is called O Alor PathaJatri, a choral song about new beginnings and a time of hope. I don’t remember exactly when it was written or what the basis of the lyrics are (they are a bit too profound for my limited Bengali knowledge); but the moment I listened to it, I fell in love with it all over again. Harmony, melody and orchestration is molded together in a tapestry which is tough to comprehend at times, but which endears itself to you, whatever your language is, whatever your musical tastes are.

Salil Chowdhury was a musician, deft in both Indian and Western Classical (as were his contemporaries); but what irks me is the fact that politics in the Indian Music Fraternity at the time when he was at his best never let him reach the heights of popularity that he should have. Then again, his music was never really popular music. At some level, you probably really need to appreciate the subtle intermingling of harmony and melody to appreciate music of that kind. Melody is something that seems of little importance nowadays, as is evident from the kind of popularity a monkey like Himesh Reshmiyaa enjoys; and I guess this post does not make sense in these troubled times.

The only thing that does make sense is that, at some level we all want our music to be affectionate, understanding, and most of all, we want it to make us smile. Salil Chowdhury’s music has done that and much more for me over the past few days. I hope to keep rediscovering new joys in his compositions. The site is vast, and I have just about managed to go through half of it. Later posts will deal with individual musical compositions, and their innate beauty…

My favorite Western Classical numbers

This post was long overdue – but I had to write something about my 10 best songs in every genre, and a short description of each; well – basically my way of paying tribute to some really amazing composers, singers and musicians...

The “trout” quintet, Franz Schubert: This piece will forever haunt me for two reasons, the passion of Vikram Seth’s novel – “The equal music” which talks about this piece; and the absolutely raw beauty of the song. Admittedly, it takes some time for the appeal of this musical piece to actually sink in, but once it does; it never ceases to enthrall…

Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 in C# minor, Franz Liszt: I first heard this absolutely wonderful piece when I was in college, and I failed to realize why it sounded so familiar. Then, one day as I was going through my Tom and Jerry collection, I came upon this cartoon, in which Tom tries to play this rather tough and intricate composition to a packed and rapt audience, as Jerry wreaks havoc all around, including the piano on which he was playing. Incidentally, this cartoon was an Oscar-winner for best Cartoon film in the year that it was released. How simple those times were…

Rhapsody in Blue, George Gershwin: One of the best combinations of classical music and light jazz by another really under-rated yet frequently listened to composer. One of the most recognizable pieces from the classical-jazz era. Interesting tidbit: When Gershwin was commissioned to write the piece, he was so pressed for time that he did not have a chance to compose the piano piece. At the first performance, he actually played it impromptu. Later, based on memory and commentary, the piece was finally composed.

Piano Sonata No. 8 (Pathetique), Ludwig Van Beethoven: One of the best sonatas for piano written by this genius, it has got all of it. Daring modulations, amazing melody, and extremely subtle textures. The start of this sonata gives me the goose bumps whenever I listen to it. Absolutely stunning…

Symphony No. 5, Ludwig Van Beethoven: This symphony has managed to survive all levels of over-popularity. It’s definitely known more than any other work he has written, and on top of that, it’s been murdered by several rather psuedo-scholarly metal guitarists… The best part is that most people recognize the first movement, and leave it at that, never realizing that the second and probably the fourth movements are the crowning points of this work…

Fantasie Impromptu, Chopin: Another overwhelming piece, the second lilting movement sometimes overshadowing the rather arousing first movement. This was one of the first songs I heard on the piano, and I have been hooked to it ever since. For me, it has and will remain one of Chopin’s best compositions.

The Goldberg Variations, Johann Sebastian Bach: I still find it hard to believe that this work was actually commissioned as music for a lullaby. The only way it can put you to sleep is if you are dense enough not to recognize a marvelous exciting work of a true genius.

Clair De Lune, Claude Debussy: I found it hard to choose between Arabesque and this song, but I put it on top because it’s probably emotionally more satisfying. One of the best short works of the impressionistic era; it has got the maximum number of versions with rather varying tempos in different classical music sites.

Variation 18, from Rhapsody on a theme by Paganini: This piece, another short one is one of the most beautiful melodies I have encountered in Western Classical music. A masterpiece, no less…

Italian Concerto, Bach: One of his most brilliant compositions, it superbly exemplifies the musical concept called counterpoint. Counterpoint basically implies two or more strains of melody running parallely and complimenting and sometimes supplementing each other. An absolutely amazing piece.

I am done with my top 10 classical music pieces... I will attempt to move into other less explored genres soon... Sometimes, I feel scared of being rather open with my feelings regarding other genres, but I guess this is my blog; and I should do that... Expect a sequel to this soon...

Love to all!!!