Abhijit Namboodiripad remembers a phone call he got years ago, when he had managed ‘Motherjane’, the ethnic rock band from Kochi that’s just turned 20 years old. In a deep Thrissur slang, someone had asked him ‘Namakkoru DJ paripaadi nadathande? (Shouldn’t we do a DJ programme?)’ It was to book ‘Motherjane’ for a temple festival at Pavaratty.
Abhijit must have explained how ethnic rock might not be a perfect fit at a temple festival. He was by then quite used to such calls from across the country. Being a band manager was not easy. They do — literally do — all the legwork, beginning from getting shows for the band to stage management and finance. But then music lovers who come to watch their favourite bands perform are unaware of the kind of issues independent musicians face.
“A lot of people don’t have an idea of what rock music is like in India. It is a niche genre,” says Abhijit, who managed Motherjane from 2009 to 2012, and is a part-time musician himself. “In the last decade or so, a lot of elements of rock music have come into mainstream/ film music. People know it is cool and trendy but they are not sure of the sort of music we play.”
Team Motherjane
That is one part. The other bigger problem is how independent musicians are treated when it comes to payment. Kishan John, who manages the band ‘When Chai Met Toast’, has many stories to narrate. He remembers the time when a premiere institute called them for a gig and they replied with their payment details. It seems they were expected to come and perform for free and even the travel cost would not be borne. “They tell us you will get exposure and opportunities like never before but that was not going to fill our bank account. And we dropped it,” Kishan says.
Another common enquiry that comes to band managers are from people asking them to play covers of Bollywood music. “Once we were booked for a corporate show. But a day before, they asked us how many Bollywood songs we’d perform. We said two. They wanted us to play 15 and we said we are not a cover band, we play original songs,” says Kishan. That forms the chunk of their enquiries. Or else, it is tribute shows — paying tribute to Pink Floyd or Cold Play.
“Established bands and musicians like ‘Avial’ or Raghu Dixit do not play when they are offered an amount that is less than what they want. They don’t undervalue themselves.” For a new band, the rates may vary from Rs 15,000 to Rs 40,000 depending on the venue, while for established bands it is more than a lakh or two.
Preetham, who manages ‘Chaos’, remembers the time someone had approached them to sign them up for a competition. And this happens to a thrash metal band that’s completed 10 years. “A lot of people are wary about talking to the managers. They insist on talking to the bands because they are afraid we’d quote a crazy amount to keep a chunk for ourselves!” Preetham says.
Praveen, the band’s former manager, had more difficult times in the early days, when organisers wouldn’t pay them before the gig, and even after it, gave cheques that would bounce. “One time in Manipal, it was so badly organised they didn’t offer us even food or water.” Like Abhijit’s temple call, Praveen too has a church call to talk of. “They asked if we could play Malayalam film songs and I asked them if they have heard our music. They said they googled Kerala bands and called one of the first bands that showed up.”
The independent music scene has opened up a lot more than before but the misunderstandings of what a rock band is continue to haunt the band managers. Aditya Jha, who has been managing ‘Avial’ for eight years, talks of instances when people ask if they could play Hindi or English, not realising the kind of music they play. “Sometimes we get calls to play in weddings. Not that it doesn’t happen; there are bands and musicians performing at weddings but they ask for film songs.”
Band managers work full time or part time and are sometimes musicians themselves. They are mostly unknown faces and names who fight their battles behind the stage, away from the limelight. It was time someone told their story.
