Breathe in, hold, 1...2...3...4...

Maestro Ilayaraja's - Composer's Breath from Nothing but wind #acnotes

"Ilayaraja's music opened the doors for a lot of listeners to focus beyond the singing."

- Guitar Prasanna (Source)

Let’s begin with a box breathing* exercise - , shall we? OK, stop that eye roll.
Humor me please, this one time.

Firstly, relax.
Find a place
to sit down comfortably.

Start with
Breathing in
Count to 4
1…2…3…4…
(Hold and count to 4)
1…2…3…4…
Exhale slowly
to the same count
1…2…3…4…
(Now hold and count to 4)
1…2…3…4…
Now go back to the start.

Thank you for your time and patience, now let’s begin. Also, a word of caution: what you’re about to listen might both relax you as well as take you on a roller coaster ride, so brace yourself.

10 seconds less to 17 minutes - that's the duration of this composition. And that's perhaps, the longest I've sat in a parking lot, since it started playing just when I parked my car. If you cannot spare this time at the moment, feel free to skip this note. Not going to lie, you could always choose to indulge in the joy of missing out. You're not missing much except for what a composer's breath may sound like. Or, maybe, you could return whenever time permits.

I've no clue how he did this in the 80s. I vaguely recall listening to the cassette back then but now I listened to it, intently, like it was the first time. As I’ve mentioned earlier in one of my notes for another song, in this one too, there was no beat drop, no sound loop that’s engages you in the first 15 seconds, no monologue/catchy lyrics or whatsoever gimmicks the current music makers use to hook their audience. Perhaps, the listeners back then didn’t have a mobile to fidget, a message on their smart watch or their laptop dinging with a new mail in the inbox, or a notification from their social media apps. Back then, when people chose to listen to music, they gave it some undivided attention. Or perhaps, the music was so engaging that people didn’t give a damn to any distraction?

The composition begins with a contemplative deep breath and then there's this tune that is exhaled slowly. A well crafted piece of bamboo with strategically placed holes lures you into a whole new plain. A bit of huffing and puffing. A 4 count exercise. And then you could almost sense the pulse as you listen. A constant rhythm in places. Then there are the peaks and valleys. The ebb and flow of strings. You could feel it begin to ascend again and then there's a sudden descent while you least expect it. You surrender. You feel like a just born placing its head on the chest of its parent. Hearing the breath closely. The inhales and exhales sync. And you trust and go on with the flow. The breathing soothes you at places, the breathing wakes you up at times. Now visualize this as the bass kicks in you’re being swayed gently. Then you nod off, and as you open your eyes, you transition to a swing. You’re nudged first, then the nudges turn to gentle pushes. You swing back and forth. You’re about to nod off, but you don’t want to, you resist. But you give in. And you wake up to find yourself you’re at the window seat of a train. The wind brushes your hair, you’re staring out. You see the trees running backwards. And then you’re completely caught up in looking down at the tracks beneath. You see them crisscross, race adjacently, disappear for brief moments and they emerge again. Now you’re so enthralled by the whole experience you don’t want this journey to end. You wish this journey never ends. You hope you never reach the destination any time soon. You hope this journey is the destination. You keep at it, head tilted, leaning on the window grill. You hear the bass and the keys. The train slows down. You are in a contemplative mood. And the flute kicks in again. The percussion is back on track with bass slapped. It’s as though a train is travelling from the opposite direction. Crossing paths. The windows glimpsing at each other. A sporadic play of light and shadow. And then you enter a tunnel. Dark. As the light emerges with strings in harmony. You see a light. A flute emerges from the darkness. It lets you clutch it and guides you back to where you were. Back to the embrace. And the music halts. Breathe in. Breathe out. Count to 4. Relax.

Over the years, I've heard, mostly notated music that's recorded. And occasionally seen someone notate a prerecorded tune for a live performance. This is perhaps the only time I've heard breath patterns being notated, played on a wind instrument and accompanied by strings, bass and percussion. So, would it be apt to call this composition the composer's breath? Well, let's not forget that while the legend featured here — Pandit Hariprasad Chaurasia is a classical flautist, he's also a Music Director. Maybe, Maestro intended to compose the breath of another composer. Or perhaps, while the old CD cover and cassette has the title "Composer's Breath", some platforms (youtube and apple, among others) have missed the apostrophe ('s), thus connoting it's the "Composers Breath". Which of these is the right interpretation?
I'll let you to listen and decide.

https://lynkify.in/song/composers-breath/9eVL3zh8

*“Box breathing is a breathing technique where you inhale, hold, exhale, and hold again, each for a count of four, creating a "box" shape with your breath. It can help reduce stress, increase focus, and promote relaxation.”