If you’re going to fuse wildly varying styles, tempos, instruments and influences in your music, you’d better make sure that the final product is both fluid and seamless. Fortunately, Bengaluru singer, composer and flautist Varijashree Venugopal began to understand the nuances of skilfully combining musical genres and styles at the tender age of four. As a young girl, Venugopal learned to perform as a Carnatic vocalist. It was a natural first step, as her father happens to be Carnatic music expert and flautist H S Venugopal. In fact, he later taught his daughter how to play the flute—and she excels at the instrument today. Varijashree Venugopal would listen to classical music at home as a child alongside learning about various forms of jazz. In particular, she studied the works of jazz fusion pioneers Shakti and developed a penchant for the songs created by the band’s guitarist and leader, John McLaughlin. Venugopal tells Apple Music: “My pastime as a kid would be to sit down, listen to these albums and write notations of the tunes in the way that I could. That was my way of decoding the music and trying to learn and understand. That is where it all began.” Since those beginnings, Venugopal has honed her craft over the past 25 years, composing pieces that show off her soaring vocals, intricate flute work and clear aptitude for musical experimentation and melodic versatility. She has made a name for herself in India and internationally as a performing artist who chooses her collaborations wisely and can adeptly lend her voice to jazz tracks, classical compilations and film soundtracks. Despite her success, Venugopal had yet to release a solo album—until now, that is. Venugopal’s debut LP, Vari, is a vehicle for the artist’s journey into jazz, classical, folk, contemporary and Carnatic fusion. Produced by Michael League—the Grammy-winning leader of American jazz fusion ensemble Snarky Puppy—and co-produced by Indian multi-instrumentalist Pramath Kiran, the record is bold in its ambition, with a grandiose sound running throughout as all those styles combine in harmony. Meaning “water” in Sanskrit—and fluid it is—Vari is replete with nods to both Indian and Western musical traditions. There are konnakol techniques (percussive vocal styles used in South Indian Carnatic songs) in “Ranjani”, for instance, and offbeat staccato jazz bubbling under the surface in tracks such as “Chasing the Horizon”. At the same time, Carnatic music’s founding father Purandara Dasa would likely be proud of the percussive dexterity and traditional adaptations on display throughout the album. Below, Venugopal tells Apple Music the stories behind Vari, track by track. “Dream” “This is, in many ways, my starting point on this album. There is a sense of vulnerability in this song. It’s the first song that I wrote for the album and also the first song in which I did many other things that I had not done before—namely, writing lyrics, harmonies, arrangements and instrumental parts all together at once. The concept comes from a sensitive spot—the Covid-19 lockdown helped me spend more time with myself and explore things I had not previously planned on tapping into. “This song is about going back to who we are and the pure essence of being. It’s also about how we dream. In a dream, you have no control, right? You just dream and then later you evaluate it. This song was actually born out of a dream I had where I was travelling really fast. It is about finding the very primal, very basic essence of who we are aside from the dynamics of the world today.” “Ranjani” “I am a great fan of whoever made this raga. I don’t even know who made it but it’s such a wild set of notes and there are so many possibilities. It’s like a wild celebration, though it is a Carnatic raga. My quest has always been to explore different melodic concepts inside of ragas that are not available in the traditional repertoire. We had this badass Carnatic vibe in mind while making this. This song is completely that: It is that free, unabashed, wild take on ‘Ranjani’, which is why I thought of Béla [Fleck, banjo legend], who just had a completely different take on it—which is what is beautiful, I think. He said he found his home in the song after a while. BC Manjunath [mridangam legend] also went in a different direction with his parts and Michael [League] has his synth and there’s a big Carnatic violin section, which you don’t see often.” “Harivaa Jhari” “This, again, is a song that’s very introspective for me. [It encompasses] the philosophy of the entire album because it’s about flow—flow of thought, creative flow, musical flow and just generally the flow that we have as people. In ‘Harivaa Jhari’, there is a story hidden inside the lyrics. The writer of the story is actually water—and it talks about its own life, being and movement. In the music video, I play a parallel character who observes and compares the water’s dynamics with the dynamics that we have as humans. Water faces things—good and bad—and it just keeps flowing. As humans, we all have that kind of a potential which is unimaginable and unfathomable, and this entire song is just trying to acknowledge the fact that we have it in us and nothing can stop us.” “Summaniru” “What I really like about 14th- and 15th-century saint poetry in Kannada is, like, the badassery. They speak about so many subjects that are still relevant today. In this [piece], Purandara Dasa is telling us not to pay heed to what’s happening outside because that’s all very menial and meaningless, whatever you gather from outside. The real stuff is inside, so you look inwards. “We get to hear so many things—but most of the opinions, suggestions and unsolicited advice that we receive come from a very superficial level. [Many people with advice] don’t even know who we are, so it’s just masala. They might not even know what’s happening. Sometimes we take it so much to heart that we might get depressed or disappointed or cowed down or just lose our way or give up what we’re doing. But what Purandara Dasa says is to rely upon your own self, and that silence that you have inside your mind will tell you what the truth is.” “Nee” “When it comes to the placement of this song in the album, it was purely [down to] the dynamics of the entire album and the magnanimity of the sounds and the expanse of the tracks. ‘Nee’ is about finding and acknowledging any kind of unconditional love that comes your way. It might be a parent, a child, a romantic interest, a companion or even a pet. My father, when he listened to the song for the first time—especially when the rhythm section enters—said he felt like it’s about marrying off a daughter and then bidding farewell to her.” “Liquid Light” “With most of the songs that I’ve written on this album, the lyrics and the tune happened simultaneously. It happened very organically together. And this song was also like that. ‘Liquid Light’ means, for me, a shiny or bright thing. It symbolises a guiding light for me. There’s also a metallic fluidity that the song title suggests. “I would say it’s a pop-ish song that’s also a producer’s track. There’s so much stuff Michael has done on it. We recorded, like, six amazing singers who all happened to be in Barcelona when I was recording. Another important thing is the presence of this raga called ‘Kambodhi’. It’s a very heavyweight Carnatic raga. There’s a technical music aspect in this where the nadaswaram is playing ‘Kambodhi’ but it’s happening in two different shrutis [pitches] back to back.” “Jaathre” “This is like a very dark carnival. There’s a place in Italy called Sardinia. They have these carnivals where they wear animal masks and then they have this heavy drumming and dancing and all that. It’s very wild and raw and in your face. That’s the kind of feel that I have here because I also have this raga called ‘Hemavati’, which is a feminine name. Then, there are eight people playing the dollu, which is a very heavy bass drum. We have chende [cylindrical percussion instruments] too. The groove keeps on going. There’s a dancey feel and then Anat [Cohen, jazz clarinettist and saxophonist] enters with her solo and takes it to another sphere altogether. It’s just a global carnival where there’s this bunch of people from different places coming together and having fun.” “Teardrop” “This also only happened during the Covid-19 lockdown season during my experimental writing sessions. It aligns with the theme of the project itself, which is flow. We’re talking about the journey of a teardrop. The teardrop doesn’t have to mean something good or bad. There are many reasons why a teardrop emerges, right? So, we are kind of making the teardrop a protagonist here and we are comparing the cheeks and the eyes as though they are mountains. That teardrop goes on continuing its journey and it fulfils its purpose in some way, remaining attached to where it emerged from.” “Search” “When I wrote ‘Search’, I was very depressed and a little clueless about things and I was also very uncertain about what was going to happen. This was written deep in lockdown. Everything had been cancelled and you didn’t know what was coming. Even if things were to open up, music and culture—my livelihood—were not going to be the priority. People needed food to eat and medical attention. I was quite lucky that I had some savings that I could burn off during Covid-19 but I still thought, ‘What’s next?’ That’s when this song came up, as I was trying to motivate myself. I was saying to myself that even in the most distressing situation, there is a sliver of hope. It can’t all be roses; there will be thorns. It’s got a happy, feel-good melody and [veena player] Rajesh Vaidhya was absolutely in sync with the emotional context. That played a big role in the song.” “Kannada” “Bangalore is a melting pot. My roots go back to parts of Tamil Nadu but the culture of Karnataka and Kannada has given me so much. I actually performed this song with Raghu [Dixit, folk-fusion artist] for a cookery show where they invited different artists to share recipes and [stories of] their life. This poem was given to me then and I had a raga in mind and, since Raghu was there, I asked him, ‘Can you please play these chords for me?’ I sang and he played guitar. This was the only time I sang this song. “It’s been loved by people [who’ve heard it]. Michael said we can make a full-blown, big arrangement for it. Most importantly, my father is playing the flute on this recording—after a lot of persuasion! He was a one-take guy. In 20 minutes, he was out of the studio. I just wanted his presence in some way on this album and after all of us spoke to him, he played. It adds so much to the song and, though it’s a small gesture, it means a lot to me that he’s on this. The song goes back to home in many ways—my parents and this state and the language and the music and all of that.” “Chasing the Horizon” “This, along with the next track, were supposed to be together as one piece but then we separated them. ‘Chasing the Horizon’ is based on this raga called ‘Vakulabharanam’ and also has the influence of this raga called ‘Mayamalavagowla’, which is the first raga we learn in Carnatic music. This is my representation of a new melody in that spectrum of ragas. “Michael also strongly believed in the fact that we should not just invite random people who we like to come play on something—it should be like they belong in this song and that’s why they’re playing. I was completely in that thought process too. We should only do whatever is required to elevate the song. “Once I wrote the song, I started thinking of who could add their gifts to this. And that’s how Hamilton [de Holanda, bandolinist] and Victor [Wooten, bassist] happened. They were so kind to play and I’ve received so much love from them and really good vibes. Victor considers me like a little sister. He supports me in everything I do. He was just like, ‘You’re doing this, so I’ll do anything I can to support you in whatever way. If it means playing on this record, then I’m really honoured to do it.’ It was the same with Hamilton.” “Where It All Began” “I slowly go back to where I come from during the last song of the album. This is the first song that we learn in Carnatic music—‘Lambodara Lakumikara’. That’s why it’s named ‘Where It All Began’. The raga is ‘Malhar’, which is born out of ‘Mayamalavagowla’. This song is very strongly emotional for me because that’s the first song. And here I’m representing it in a completely global, modern crossover format where the melody remains the same but then the harmonies go on adding layers. It’s pretty much like a testament to my entire journey so far as a Carnatic musician. It represents my learning journey—what I’m still holding on to and what I am becoming.”