In between international gigs, television appearances and studio recordings, Harish Sivaramakrishnan is celebrating a working birthday today. Metrolife walks with him down memory lane.
A Shornur-born kid, he led a largely cocooned existence in a village with “one school, one post office, one bank and one temple” till his teens. “I didn’t know a word of English until I landed up in BITS Pilani to do chemical engineering, a course I didn’t like in a place I didn’t know,” he admits.
The next few years were spent in switching jobs and struggling to make his music acceptable and popular. As he moved between companies like Adobe, Myntra, Freecharge, Google (currently he works at CRED), he worked on a genre of music that rejected existing labels. Today, Agam is considered to be one of the pioneers of a genre titled Carnatic progressive rock.
Harish credits the conditioning he got in his closely-knit village as an artistic influence. The Agam brand logo is also inspired by Theyyam, a popular ritual form of worship in North Kerala. But why Theyyam, when there are so many folk arts to be found?
“It’s mainly the imagery — anything that has got surreal imagery has a more profound impact on young kids. The cult aspect; the whole man God thing, all made a subconscious impact on me,” he says.
Which made me ask my next question, a little hesitantly. “Theyyam is your thing. You are the face of Agam. Mostly you answer questions in interviews; what about the others?”
“Different people in Agam have different comfort zones. I can put thoughts into words and I generally talk more. Others might not have the patience to sit down and form articulations of their beliefs; they might use that time to practise or create music. Since we are all friends, we know what individually we are good at and associate with,” he elaborates.
Apart from Yadhunandan (the drummer), all the others in the band continue to hold full-time jobs that they juggle along with the music. Why is that?
“Personally, I work because I like it; I have found my own little happy zone in both worlds now. I am somewhat conservative; I am okay with doing things in a very mainstream way,” he says with a shrug.
As I point out the conservative is hardly a term one would associate with him, with his multiple tattoos and long mane, Harish laughs. “Being in a particular job or a particular attire makes me feel confident. I don’t take feedback on whether it works for me or not. If I like doing things in a particular way and it allows me to stay sane, I will do that.”
It is this spark of rebellion that fetches him both brickbats and bouquets on social media. While some appreciate him for taking classical music to the masses, others have criticised what they term is dilution of a ‘pure art’. His rebuttals have been swift and strongly-worded; he has taken umbrage at associating Carnatic music with a particular religion or community and has said, on more than one occasion, that art shouldn’t be confined.
From all their songs, which was the one that changed his life? “It was ‘Malhar Jam’ because we performed it on MTV Coke Studio,” he says immediately. “ Every independent artiste desires for validation he/she can bank on. Being on Coke Studio was tangible validation for us. So was A R Rahman’s tweeting about our song ‘Mist of Capricorn’,” he says.
But despite being an established artiste, Harish says it is much harder for an independent musician to remain in the memory of people, unlike movie artistes who have releases every week. “There was a time I wanted to be a well-known film playback singer but not anymore. I am still interested in playback but I am not chasing the versatility battle right now. I now wish for songs which fall in a realm that I feel I will be a good fit for.”
In the meantime, he continues to pose for selfies after a show (“I enjoy the attention. I wish more people came to talk up to me after gigs”), oblige song requests on social media, spend time with his daughter (“She has come for some of my shows but she doesn’t think too much about them”) and shuttle between Kerala and Bengaluru (“I love this city. When people ask me where I am from, I say Bengaluru now”).
Where does he find the time for all this? “My schedule is spiky. On some days, I will be drowning in work. Other time, I will be on Instagram, posting my own selfies. Nobody is perpetually busy, except maybe Shah Rukh Khan,” he laughs.