Kishore Kumar: What Makes Him Stand Apart
With his unique vocal tone and perfect pitch, Kishore Kumar always sounded breathtaking whatever song he lent his voice to and surpassed all competing singers.
The singing style of Kishore Kumar cannot be described in words. This is just an inadequate but sincere and humble tribute to his singing. The most distinguished character of his tonal quality was the depth of his voice, which kept increasing during his lifetime. This can be described in Bengali as ভরা গলা (a deep, booming voice, as a near translation). Related to this is another important trait of his voice that can only be expressed in Bengali. শুধু ভরা নয়, অত্যন্ত “কড়া”! (Not merely deep and booming but also remarkably “strong”!) Again an approximate rendering! কোন কণ্ঠ কিশোরের মতো “কড়া” হতে পারে না। (There can be no voice “stronger” than Kishore Kumar’s.) I have never listened to such a “কড়া” voice. (Probably the nearest translation of “কড়া গলা” would be a deep and beautifully crispy voice.)
My updated take on “কড়া গলা” from the article titled “Pather Shesh Kothay” on my Substack dashboard, Rabindra Vivechanam:
“I would prefer to translate কড়া গলা as a voice imbued with high resonance, crispness, strength, steadiness, sweetness, and melody, all harmoniously blended. Sharpness isn’t exactly কড়া গলা, let alone fully capture it. While sharpness is a related trait, it is more pronounced in the shrill voices of qawwals whose Bengali equivalent would be kirtaniyas. And we never use the term কড়া গলা to describe kirtaniyas/qawwals. Instead, কড়া গলা denotes a resonant voice with a metallic ring, combining strength and crispness without sacrificing steadiness, sweetness and melody. Yes, sharpness is a component of কড়া গলা, but it is a refined sharpness, not raw. This quality is a hallmark of many revered yesteryear Bengali male vocalists known for their beautiful voices, starting from Pankaj Mullick to Debabrata Biswas to Hemanta Mukhopadhyay to Kishore Kumar to Chinmoy Chattopadhyay to Abhijeet Bhattacharya. It is কড়া গলা that imparts a striking boldness to vocal delivery, especially at high pitches. Be it belting out straight notes or doing a meend or murki or khatka at high notes, Kishore’s voice never faded unless he deliberately softened or thinned it, as part of necessary modulation, to suit the expressive needs of playback singing. Even KL Saigal was distinguished by his prominent কড়া গলা. I guess it captured the heart of a young Kishore Kumar, inspiring him to mirror that bold vocal style in his early Hindi film songs. This distinctive trait of a কড়া গলা, however, is uniquely recognized by Bengali society, a subtlety absent in the musical consciousness of other groups, their musical frameworks clearly lacking this specific conception/appreciation. In an earlier era, Bengalis, more than any other community, gifted the world with a multitude of voices, each carrying the bold, evocative resonance of কড়া গলা in abundance.
This is why non-Bengalis aren’t supposed to discern readily this nuanced feature in a voice, much less seek it out, and having discovered, highlight it in their analyses. I emphasised this subtle vocal trait of Kishore Kumar right at the very outset in my 2021 Facebook article, later republished with my permission on Sirf News India on 4 August 2021. Contemporary writers subsequently tried to spotlight this same vocal characteristic in their own works. Their failure to credit my analysis constitutes plagiarism of my original insight.”
Perhaps Kishore was absolutely aware of the quality of his voice and that assisted and showed in his application of it across a range of notes. For instance, his higher notes never thinned or became blunt or lost the crispy and resonant nature.
In “कोई होता जिसको अपना” (Koi Hota Jisko Apna), within the line “कोई तो ग़म अपनाता,” Kishore Kumar deftly navigated shadja and shuddha rishab in “तो ग़म अपना,” then touched the komal gandhara of taar saptak (F#4) in “साथी” of the next line, “कोई तो साथी होता,” performing in a scale with the tonic note (Sa) set at D#3.
In “शीशे की उम्र” (Sheeshe ki umra), he stood for a while on komal gandhara of taar saptak (E4), and eventually hit its shuddha madhyama (F#4), singing in a scale centred on C#3.
In the popular Bengali track, “কি আশায় বাঁধি খেলাঘর” (Ki aashaay baandhi khelaaghar), he was found hitting the pancham of taar saptak (F4) with uncanny ease, in a scale where the Sa is positioned at A#2.
While singing high in these and many other songs, the depth of his voice stayed uncompromised. On the contrary, he applied this depth and crispy quality for better projection and delivery in higher notes.
It is worth mentioning here that “शीशे की उम्र” was rendered after he had already suffered two heart attacks and was in his 50s. It was sheer unreal that he was regularly singing at such high notes in that period of his life without ever resorting to nasalisation or falsetto.
His singing can, therefore, be described as roaring unlike mooing or squeaking what is employed by modern-day singers.
Besides, Kishore was a master of modulation.
His soft voice was sharply distinct from his hard voice evident from and again brilliantly applied by the singing maestro in songs like “सा रे गा मा” (Sa re ga ma), “प्यार के इस खेल में” (Pyaar ke is khel men), “सपनों के शहर” (Sapnon ke shahar) and many more.
Further, Kishore Kumar could effortlessly switch from a hard, “belt-y” vocal texture to a soft vocal tone and seamlessly return to his natural voice. Songs like “चला जाता हूँ” (Chalaa Jaataa Hoon) and its Bengali version, “চলেছি একা কোন অজানায়” (Cholechhi Ekaa Ajaanay), showcase such effortless transitions in the antara, alongside his remarkable shift from natural to yodelling voice.
In the famous Rabindra Sangeet, “পুরানো সেই দিনের কথা” (Puraano sei diner kathaa), he softened his voice while performing “আয় আর একটিবার আয় রে সখা” (aay aarekti baar aay re sakhaa) the first first time and instantly thereafter, when it came to repeating the line, he lent his hardened voice that suggested that while the former was a request, the latter was a demand.
Modulation was his weapon that helped him impart his subtle interpretation to the song. He was a crafty singer. It is his ভরা গলা (full-bodied, sonorous voice) that fills the vacuity of sky’s unfathomable expanse with the Sun and stars in “আকাশভরা সূর্য-তারা” (Aakaash bhora surjo-tara).
No other singer could weave the impression that is held deep within the very essence of the lyrics. None had the the fullness of voice Kishore Kumar possessed. This is extraordinary singing that the world of classical proficiency has miserably failed to raise. For nature creates the best, man imitates. Kishore Kumar has been nature’s most amazing gift to mankind in the realm of singing. If Narayana ever sang, he would do so in Kishore’s voice. He is the fullest descent of the singing datum codified in Vasudeva’s highest Adhyatmika Satta — in simple words, the fullest manifestation of Vasudeva’s Adhyatmika musical essence!
Every time Kishore Kumar sang a song, others rendering the same song failed to match his singing and invariably it would be Kishore’s version that stayed more popular because, put in simple terms, he sang those songs far better than his counterparts. For instance, only a few souls would be aware of the fact that Parveen Sultana had sung “हमें तुम से प्यार कितना” (Humein tumse pyaar kitnaa) albeit using nasalisation that rendered her version all the duller to ears.
Kishore hit the higher notes in “मेरे नैना सावन भादों” (Mere nainaa saawan bhaado) distinctly better than Lata with her high-pitched soprano.
Likewise, his “रिम-झिम गिरे सावन” (Rimjhim gire saawan) was far more soothing than Lata’s.
“तुम बिन जाऊं कहाँ” (Tum bin jaaoon kahaan) was indubitably sung better by Kishore Kumar than the classic Rafi. Kishore transformed the instrumental alap in Rafi’s version into an improvised yodelling prelude, adding a distinctive emotional depth to the song.
According to Abhijeet Bhattacharya, this performance alone showcases Kishore’s gifted, singular genius, distinct from Rafi’s polished finesse achieved through rigorous proficiency. Let me add that even without yodelling, Kishore is far more emotive in his delivery than any other rival vocalist. Abhijeet further noted that, since this rendition, Kishore has ranked from 1 to 10; a position he will always hold, I additionally reckon.
Such sensational was his rendition that a Bengali track “এক দিন পাখি উড়ে” (Ek din paakhi ude) was eventually composed in the same tune and of course rendered by Kishore Kumar; the yodelling in the song is just spellbinding! The tune of the Bengali version was tweaked to be a little more intricate (with added murkis) and Kishore was heard handling these complexities with astonishing ease for an untrained singer. In an interview Abhijeet highlighted how his Guru of classical singing would emphasise that there can be no greater classical singer than Kishore himself. In fact, many luminaries of Shastriya Sangeeta would grudgingly acknowledge that Kishore would excell even if he were to make a career out of classical music.
Although untrained, Kishore had an innate sense of technicalities. With his very unique vocal tone and perfect pitch, he always sounded breathtaking whatever song he lent his voice to. He was absolutely aware of his singing voice — its style and volume — and this helped him in hitting the right notes and matching the right pitch with the kind of vocal projection he desired.
His grasp of taal (rhythm) can be easily ascertained from his rendition of “বিধির বাঁধন কাটবে তুমি” (Bidhir baandhan kaatbe tumi), sung without the accompaniment of any musical instrument. Kishore’s murki is beautifully well blended.
He applied it, as one out of many instances, in the other version of “आ चल के तुझे” (Aa chal ke tujhe) probably singing on stage.
In the sthayis of “ओ मेरे दिल के चैन” (O mere dil ke chain) and “आने वाला पल, जाने वाला है” (Aane waalaa pal jaane waalaa hai), the clear murkis are a treat to the ears of music aficionados.
The danas of his murki are optimally pronounced. Additionally, Kishore Kumar could increase the oscillatory component, making each dana less rounded, sharper, and more incisive. Or he could reduce the oscillatory component, allowing the danas to remain softer, rounder, and more fluid. He exercised this control with remarkable consistency, continually adjusting the character of the danas to suit the expressive, melodic, and rhythmic demands of the composition.
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Besides, it goes without saying that nobody has yodelled as immaculately perfect as Kishore Kumar — smoothest transition from chest/mixed voice to falsetto; yodelling by others were either partial or at times entirely falsetto.
These days I refer to Kishore’s yodelling as the most “yodel-y” yodelling!
What set him apart from other singers was his innate ability to live the emotions in a song. Be it romance, passion, pathos, hope, mourning (but never lamenting), condemning fate or unrequited love, Kishore Kumar had the capacity to literally bring them out with unparalleled excellence. They emerged straight from his heart and lodged for eternity in the hearts of the listeners. In the process, he eventually came to sing only for the masses.
There was an element of typical Kishore-madness in his songs. Manna Dey, one of his heavyweight contemporaries, acknowledged Kishore’s astounding mad antics in the rendition of “एक चतुर नार”.
Manna Dey in an interview honestly admitted that he found it challenging to measure up to Kishore’s madly energetic performance.
Little wonder that this “mad” singer would sing both the male and female vocals in Salil Chowdhury’s composition, “आके सीधी लगी दिल पे” (Aake seedhi lagi dil pe) to fill in for Lata who was probably away and failed to turn up for the recording.
Salil, during his initial days, had been hesitant in reposing his faith in Kishore, but destiny had already planned a different course. Salil would have Kishore sing “गुज़र जाए दिन” (Guzar jaaye din). He later felt only Kishore could do justice to the melody of the composition. Kishore’s dedication needs mentioning here; he took 18 takes to get it right. He had initially refused to sing this complicated semi-classical composition of the legendary music composer.
This is something very strange. He would at first refuse to sing a difficult, semi-classical composition but once he sang it, it would turn out to be a mind-blowing, indomitable performance. Even his own compositions were strikingly melancholic, bordering on the same semi-classical he used to dread. Who else than Kishore would do an “aisi-ki-taisi” of Shivranjani (in “मेरे नैना सावन भादों”)?
Kishore’s “रूप तेरा मस्ताना” that bagged him the Filmfare Award was sung in an intensely erotic voice.
The Bengali version “এতো কাছে দুজনে” was rendered even more erotically by this wizard of a singer; perhaps the more sensuality-laden Bengali lyrics warranted such sublime intonation. Put simply, this is difficult singing and only Kishore Kumar could execute it in such fluent fashion. (I never liked listening to Kishore’s songs sung by latter-day singers. Abhijeet Bhattacharya, in this regard, is an exception. He sang them brilliantly well with an entirely different texture of voice and way better than others who attempted doing the same, some in their natural while others with dummy voices. Having said that, even the classically trained Abhijeet would, with all his heart, admit that his idol easily beats him almost always and at times by a notch or two, if not by a big margin.
That said, I have always been fond of many of Kishore Kumar’s songs as rendered by Amit Kumar. Father and son share a remarkable stylistic overlap—similarities, not identities. Alongside those familial affinities, Amit Kumar brings an unmistakably distinctive presentation and projection of his own. Listening to that exquisite balance between resemblance and individuality is a source of immense musical delight.)
All the renditions of Rabindra Sangeeta by Kishore Kumar were purely about delivery and modulations and the underlying bhava that he had easy and effortless access to. Kishore had a unique ability to live singing and songs to the fullest. It’s a myth that he did not follow the established notations of Rabindra Sangeeta. Verily he did infuse his own style of singing into his performances, but he strictly followed the notations of Rabindra Sangeeta. Most stalwarts of the genre exercised the freedom to make improvisations and subtle changes in the tune of Rabindra Sangeeta, without most listeners ever realising so. But Kishore insisted on flowing over notes without compromise nearly just as composed by Kaviguru. Only Kishore could pull them off in this fashion and with such fidelty and render them eternally endearing to the listeners.
I had a notion — based on my fallacious perception of established Rabindra Sangeeta artists invariably sticking to set notations — that I usually did not approve of alterations in notations made by modern-day Rabindra Sangeeta singers in their renditions. I, therefore, have always preferred to follow Pankaj Mullick, Debabrata Biswas, Subinoy Roy, Hemanta Mukhopadhyay, Dwijen Mukhopadhyay, Chinmoy Chattopadhyay, Sumitra Sen, Arghya Sen, Prasun Mukhopadhyay, Indrani Sen, Shraboni Sen, Indranil Sen, Manoj Murali Nair, Agnibha Bandyopadhyay, Srikanto Acharya and the like. However, I have eventually discovered that most of these stalwarts freely incorporated their own variations into their performances. In contrast, Kishore Kumar, with his typical panache for excellence, strove to perfect his performance following set notations. I won’t speak much on tala and laya here. But few followed standard notations as devotedly and fervently as Kishore Kumar. He embraced the challenge of perfecting the art of Rabindra Sangeeta. His strength and brilliance lay in his boundless control over Bhava, projection and modulation. No wonder Rabindra Sangeeta sung by Kishore Kumar sound ineffably captivating. The mysticism and Bhakti Bhava of the lyrics come into the fullest blossom in Kishore’s crisp, metallic, deep voice. Of course, he sang a few Rabindra Sangeeta songs in movies and live performances with tunes slightly deviated from the original, but his magnetic delivery never failed to enchant listeners. Nobody can repeat his way of singing them. To do so, one has to be equipped with that unique voice of his. If you don’t wish to follow conventions without disregard for standards, out of sheer awe of “innovation in art” and “excellence”, you will have to be a Kishore Kumar. And you can’t just become a Kishore Kumar. You are just born a Kishore Kumar. It is often said, “Kishore Kumar comes once in an era.” Wrong! He comes just once. While the world of singing has brought forth—and will keep bringing forth—innumerable outstanding vocalists, Kishore Kumar is its one and only vocal wizard. My sincerest pranama to Kishore Kumar on his birth anniversary!
PS: I will repeat what I said a couple of years ago. I consider myself blessed to have borne the incapacity to go beyond Kishore’s singing. Kishore Kumar is transcendence, the highest Devata in the world of singing, invincible to time’s cruel, overwhelming onslaughts.
NB This article was originally written and published on Facebook on 4 August 2021. It was subsequently republished by Surajit Dasgupta on his news platform, Sirf News India, with my permission on the same day. Later, Surajit Dasgupta committed blatant plagiarism by posting it on his new website, Swadharma, without my knowledge or permission, erasing my authorship credit even when he repeatedly claimed that his website’s scope cannot accomodate articles on topics other than Dharma and Adhyatmikata.
The revision of the original article that I have carried out here was a necessity. My own understanding of Kishore’s vocal prowess has undergone an evolution over the past few years. I have delved deep into the science behind vocal artistry and have applied my own interpretations of the performances of vocalists in many posts and articles across social media platfroms. In writing this article for the first time on 4 August 2021, I did inadvertently mess up with the designations of individual pitches. There are many interpretations of this complex topic — and I got two such interpretations mixed up. This time around I have harmonised my own comprehension and thereby removing inconsistencies of expressions concerning such technicalities. The Substack version of the article, published on Upstream, now further presents a small selection of video songs, carefully extracted from high-definition prints of the films wherein they are featured, drawn from my personal archive.
The job of an editor is limited. He rarely has a sound knowledge of the subject of the article he feels privileged to fiddle with which he does so in the spirit of owning the very craft and spirit of its “rightful creator.” Had he had a firm grounding in music and the science of it, he would have discussed certain portions of the article dealing with technicalities that surely needed a revision. Editing is to stay confined to proofreading! Editing must go and will surely in the coming days! Besides, I have never charged Surajit Dasgupta for the articles I wrote for Sir News India. Nor would I ever ask for compensation from anybody for writing a piece. Writing is worship. Writing isn’t a damn profession for a man like me. I revere my ancestors whose blood courses through my veins. This reverence isn’t up for sale! And it holds good for any art form, howsoever transiently, I engage in. And in my worship of art, Shakti descends into my core in a blend of Saraswati and Sri. Nevertheless, if I were to charge him for the article, it would not grant Surajit Dasgupta ownership of its copyright or the right to omit my “sole authorship”.
Without the slightest compunction, he now shares the link to my article, after having been unwilling even to accommodate an article unless it concerned Hindutva or Dharma. And that, too, after dispossessing me of my sole authorship. If roguery has a face, it is Surajit Dasgupta!
What greater proof could there be that the article is mine, written by me, and not a creation of the Swadharma News portal! However, even before this article, Surajit Dasgupta had already plagiarised one entire article of mine. I am referring to that very article — the one titled “Inquiry” which I had shared with him hoping it would be published on his website.
I have revised the original manuscript, with the updated sections bolded for clarity. I have retained the title “Kishore Kumar: What Makes Him Stand Apart”, as it is derived from a sentence in the article: “What set him apart from other singers was his innate ability to live the emotions in a song.” I have deliberately refrained from expanding this article any further than imperative necessity for the reason that I have been continuously writing on Kishore’s performances in articles after articles posted on my Substack dashboards, Upstream and Rabindra Vivechanam, and I will persist in doing so. I warmly invite readers to visit these platforms for more articles on Kishore Kumar’s singing finesse.
In this and other articles on Kishore Kumar, I primarily focus on his vocal flourishes unlike every other article on him chronicling his life or recording anecdotes or, at most, the emotions his singing evokes in writers. I do include his biographical events only if they formed the bedrock of his emotive delivery, while also sharing the emotions his songs evoke in me. The intention is very clear: debunking the false claim that Kishore Kumar was bereft of classical repertoire. In truth, his singing was rich with classical elements.
It is comparatively easier to write about advanced topics of Shastriya Sangeet, such as raagas, gharanas, and khayals, than to analyse its fundamentals. Writers can skip the finer nuances latent in the depths of vocal performance, merely skimming the surface. Writing about fundamental elements requires the ability to dissect the finest, most basic aspects of vocal artistry, a task that is thus difficult.
Gayaki isn’t entirely about vocal jugglery. A host of elements in unison produce a mellifluous rendition as the final product. Kishore never sang plain. People who do not have sharp shruti usually fail to distinguish between two close frequencies that are well-blended (sometimes one is used as kan swara while at other times, very short and light murkis are used that are appreciated only by trained ears) and therefore, they reach this fallacious conclusion that Kishore’s singing is sans ornamentation. To know whether or not a singer has the ability to use vocal ornamentations, one must have great comprehension and sharp recognition of the various ornamentations of classical music and their subtle applications. Most writers don’t have a basic understanding of Sangeeta Shastra and quite naturally their untrained ears convey to them little technical details incorporated in Kishore’s performances. I highlight this cognitive shortfall that prevents them from intellectually engaging with his classical techniques. That is why they proudly write, “it will be difficult to write about Kishore’s vocal abilities even in 2000 pages.” This boastful rhetoric only bolsters the false myth of Kishore’s lack of classical roots. I doubt they could assemble 20 words to describe Kishore’s technical prowess. As for singers and musicians who belittle Kishore’s genius, I can only pity their poor understanding of music and the fact that they will die in ignorance — which they so justly deserve — about Kishore Kumar only hitting straight notes, with little embroidery in his throat, quite the contrary to the truth which in this case is unimaginably strange, far beyond their wokery-laced grasp.
This is an impassioned tribute to Kishore Kumar by probably his worst Bhakta, sincerely celebrating his unmatched rich vocal embroidery!
