A week before the release of Kayal , Imman invites us over for a chat at his studio in Virugambakkam. Excerpts:
Kayal is your fourth collaboration (after Lee, Mynaa, Kumki ) with Prabhu Solomon. How important is it to sync with a director to compose successful albums?
Each time he comes with a script, I’m excited at the opportunity it presents for melodies. It is a pleasure to compose songs you like to listen to yourself. He says he wants songs one can listen to at night.
There aren’t many directors who give you that opportunity and I respect how he lays emphasis on the lyrics. For him, songs should work as effectively as dialogues. Some directors sometimes ask for flashy phrases like mercury pookal in their songs, but Prabhu’s films always have characters who sing like they speak — such as ‘Unna ippo paakkanum… pesanum’ in Kayal for example.
So does Prabhu come prepared with lyrics?
Not always. He comes along with the lyricist (Yugabharathi) to my studio. I prefer to work early in the morning and so we start at around 6.30. I don’t usually have a preset tune and choose to go with the flow. We try to finish at least one song by lunch-time. In fact, this impromptu style of composing is something I started only after Mynaa . Earlier, I used to work alone and give directors scratch disks with the pallavi and dummy lyrics. I have since changed that approach and all my songs are now tailor-made for the situation. A character’s identity, educational background… all these are factored into my music. I believe these sessions are when true creation takes place.
Does it bother you that other directors don’t ask for as many melodies?
Not really. You cannot survive too long in the industry with just one kind of music. When directors ask for jazz or rock, I oblige. Nevertheless, I ensure that tune is the driving force. Beats and effects should be secondary. Only then will a song remain etched in public memory.
But with songs driven solely by tune, aren’t you worried you could alienate younger listeners?
I don’t feel so. Take an album like Kumki or Kayal — the listeners are mainly youngsters. You and I live in the city and so, we are only exposed to urban audiences. But the youngsters in the villages are different. Tunes with a regional identity are what matter to them. That said, we hardly hear songs that use ghatam, tabla, strings and woodwind instruments in commercial cinema anymore. People think these are outdated… that they are not ‘youngster material’. But albums like Veyyil, Aadukalam , and Paruthiveeran have proved the opposite. I believe that the more regional you are, the more international you become. So, if you want a Shakira-like song, listen to the original — don’t ask for a Tamil imitation.
You started composing at 15. Have you always believed in the importance of songs with a regional identity?
No. These are important lessons I picked up along the way. My views on music were totally different when I started out. We have grown up listening to songs composed in a 6-8 talam count as opposed to western songs that have a 2-4 talam count. In our set-up, we know songs that use this formula will go on to become hits. And we cannot get too experimental.
You are a sought-after composer. Your Wikipedia page says you’ve worked on 14 films this year.
I thought it was 12! ( Laughs ) It’s just coincidental that a lot of my earlier films are releasing this year and a few of them are getting advanced. Also, I don’t have any reservations about who I will work with. I trust my instinct while choosing films… some fail, some exceed expectations. I don’t party so I can go to bed by 10.30. I wake up early and so, I get a lot of time to work on music.
What have been some heartening responses to your tracks?
During the screening of one of my films, I met a doctor who spoke to me about an autistic child who wasn’t reacting to treatment. This boy, who could not even say appa/amma, was apparently singing the whole pallavi of Soi Soi (Kumki). I was astonished to hear this.
Another instance involved African boys who were brought to India for a brain-related treatment. I was shocked to hear that they enjoyed watching ‘Fy fy fy’ ( Pandiya Naadu ) and ‘Oodha colour ribbon’ (Varuthapadatha Valibar Sangam) on TV. It is these reactions that matter most.
We are told that you only like to compose in the comfort of your studio. It’s also known that you spend all Sundays at church.
I work in my studio from early morning to night on all days except Sundays, when I spend the whole day at church. From Monday to Saturday, it’s all work. I start with a prayer before I sit down to compose. Directors narrate a situation and explain that their song should sound like a particular number, but at the same time, should be original. Under such circumstances, when a fresh tune emerges, it is magical. I’m surprised every time it happens.
About six years ago, a producer came to me with a Sri Lankan song and insisted I copy it for his film. Despite my giving him several variations, he remained stubborn and wanted exactly that tune but with Tamil lyrics. After a point, I gave in and they were about to start shooting. I started feeling guilty and immersed myself in prayer. This was perhaps the only time a composer was praying that his song never came out. Two days later, they invited me to the studio and made me listen to a track. Another film had copied the Sri Lankan song and shot its video too. They asked me to compose another tune for them. My prayers had worked!
You’re already 15 years old in the industry but you’re only 31!
See… my dad is a teacher, my mother a housewife and I come from an ordinary middle-class background. When I wanted to buy an expensive keyboard, my folks offered to mortgage the house for it. As you know, I worked on my first film when I was 15, but it only released when I was 19. I was a nobody when I worked on Thamizhan . When it didn’t work, I didn’t feel disappointed because I had not set my sights on becoming a film composer. I was happy to go back to making jingles. But a few films kept coming my way. Though there were hit songs like ‘Azhagiya Asura’ ( Whistle ), no one knew I’d composed them. And films like Giri and Thalai Nagaram happened which typecast me as a composer suitable only for Arjun and Sundar C. I had become a mass composer, making songs suitable for the tea kadai.
So, what changed?
Films like Autograph, Veyyil, Kaadhal, and Angadi Theru started changing the face of Tamil cinema. The directors of these films, however, didn’t seem to want to work with me and this got me thinking. Finally, Prabhu Solomon came along when both of us were in the same boat — marginally successful but without any major breakthrough. Lee didn’t do too well, but Mynaa clicked and everything changed.
