Sri 2024
Full Moon
Vying for natural wonders with Vivaldi, Indian violinist delivers what can become a defining opus of his five-decade-long career.
Like his most venerated sibling, Shankar Lakshminarayana is well-versed in classical music; unlike L. Subramaniam, though, this Indian composer is not well-known in symphonic world, while a lot of fusion aficionados are aware of his work with John McLaughlin and Frank Zappa. That’s why one cannot overestimate the importance of “Full Moon” which will change the listener’s perspective of the veteran’s oeuvre, especially after 2021’s "Chepleeri Dream" found him apply Kerala sensibilities to straight rock patterns and 2021’s "Christmas From India" felt a bit like travesty, with a blend of Carnatic motifs and Western festivities going astray. Those albums’ follow-up couldn’t be more different in its cosmic scope, where nocturnes are at the same time monumentally majestic and immensely intimate.
Accompanied by Abhijit Banerjee, whose dynamically shifting grooves spice up and accentuate constant movements of melody, Shankar’s double violin and voice unfold a thrilling, counterpoint-driven panorama. This vista is slowly formed via expansive opener “Darlene’s Wish” that weaves, from the bowed passages and sitar-like licks, a riveting tapestry of the “Four Seasons” variety, and then refracted through the much shorter, vocal-augmented wonder of “Dancing Beauty” before the tripartite suite “Aberi Fantasy” focuses it on the titular celestial body. Starting with Lakshminarayana’s mesmeric incantation – nigh on a cappella, if not for a barely-there shimmer of ivories – and initially shaped as vibrant raga, the piece’s first segment will, in fact, hint at a riff quite a few heavy ensembles fed off, and dive into lower frequencies. However, the second, concise chapter explores harmonic spectrum of his unique instrument and forays into European folklore, and the last improv offers an elegiac, yet increasingly energetic, flow into the great unknown of space.
This space is much closer than the audience may assume, as suggested in the album’s other epic. Split in two almost equal, in terms of span, sections, “Around The Corner” also begins with enchanting singing only to reach further for deeply resonant quasi-orchestral grandeur and dissipate it in a percussive, bass-stricken jive until delicate strum and hum bring the entire sonic spectacle to a cathartic close. A new dawn of sorts – and a new milestone for L Shankar.
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