An 'intensely happy' concert...

It isn't everyday that a friend offers you free tickets to a concert of Euphoria. Till yesterday I used to think of that band as one which confuses itself between tabla and rock themes, and ends up creating a somewhat forgettable song. But it seems I confused them for some other band. The event hosted by IIPM was on the outskirts of the city and after being much persuaded by my best friend, I relented and agreed to tag along with her. I had a few apprehensions about the place and all. We entered the arena and just to pass some early times, before the show began, I read the tickets. Voila! What do you know! We actually had VIP passes! IIPM people were helpful enough to allow us to enter the VIP arena with the already checked tickets.

Initially we were bombarded with a completely lame introduction by a girl who could never start a sentence without "but before that". And a performance by a person touted as the fastest guitar player in the country made me wish for earplugs. You may be the fastest player on the earth, but it doesn't matter a bit if you keep playing tuneless melodies and murder some of the best songs by your musical gung-ho. And his claim to fame being playing the guitars in normal, over the head and other seemingly dirty positions, only reminded me of Pingu, the monkey kid my sister is rearing.

But soon Euphoria saved me. The first thing that struck me about Euphoria is that, in today's age when the Rakhi Savants and the Bappi Lehris are busy performing musical homicides, this group was not keen to look different by their looks but by their music. Their music showed their efforts.

The band-members seemed so conventional, you could mistake them to be the college kids who have lost their way on to the stage. But each member has his worth in gold in the band. You can imagine them composing their songs at 2 in the night. There is Benjamin Pinto, a rather healthy darkish Goan, who would be having a bear in one hand, crying out loud rather rowdy jokes and playing the keyboard with the other hand. Then there is a guy, name forgotten, who looks like the kid next door, with his middle-parted long hair, supporting the members with some rhythm guitar. Then there's another guy, with clear cut hair cut, a French beard, square thin glasses, who brings about an air of responsibility in the group. Playing the guitar, he would remind the group of their shoot the next morning. Then there's a drummer who is as priceless as anyone else, with his deep beats. Palash Sen, of course, would be the magical leader of the band, composing the lyrics to the tune when Pinto would strike gold with a brilliant tune. After gathering a few tabla and dhol players, the band would come up with a masterpiece at about 3am. You could just see all this written over the band members.

One thing about Euphoria is their depth of lyrics and music. They provide the most inspirational music without needing any Eminem vocabulary. Their music is pure and non-conventional. Songs like Mayri, tum, mehfooz, dhoom pichak dhoom, kabhi aana tu meri gali, etc are truly gems. You can't help dance to the peppy numbers, nor can you fail to admire the depth and down-to-earth-kinda feeling to the lyrics jotted by the erstwhile doctor Palash Sen. And they command respect without resorting to any kind of false impressions. I turned into their eternal fan yesterday.
Another thing about the concerts is that you can never create the same environment, even with your astronomically priced home theatre systems. Forget the jumping around, the shear vibrations of deep bass rocks your brains out. You would admire even the songs, which you would term as a drag on your music system. Of course, the thing I dislike about concerts is that the crowd is involved by the singers far too many times in any song, creating discontinuities, which slightly deflate the "euphoria". 'Come on guys, we are here to listen to you sing, not the crowd. Have listened to them for four years in the name of classroom discussions and we need a break now! And whoever plans the disco-lights on the stage; please refrain from blinking them onto our eyes. It doesn't seem respectful to the band, if half the crowd is listening with a hand in front of their eyes to block out the idiotic lights.'

Of course, it need not be mentioned that the girls in the crowds are too pleasing to the eye. The crowd contained people from nook and corner of the city and beyond, maybe. I saw a grandma dancing away to the songs played at "ah-my-aching-ears" volume. And I saw a la-di-dah society woman (picked this from Priety Zinta's interview in Life today) brilliantly exposing the hollowness in today's parenting by placing her infant in a pram near the speakers. But then, some by-products of the lies promoted by the big screen, and a million dollar paycheck, always play the role of the concert jesters without their knowing it.

The concert has left me with a desire to attend a few more of those before I turn deaf. So anyone with free tickets to offer, do contact me!!

Cheers!!!