On Auguest 24th , 2001 Rajiv Vijaykar had published an excellent article on Mukesh ji on SCREEN magazine... I had already archived the article but luckily the link still works...
http://www.screenindia.com/20010824/mcov1.htmlFor those who prefer not to navigate away from HF.. here is the cut and paste...
He was always the singer of the masses, with his astonishing achievement
of nine hits for every 10 recorded songs, and is spoken of, perfectly
deservingly, in the same breath as colleagues like Mohammed Rafi and Kishore
Kumar, legends whose tally of recordings was in multiples of Mukeshchand
Mathur, singer extraordinary and human being exemplary.
It will be 25 years on August 27, since the radio and TV announcers uttered
those fatal words one evening - "Mukesh is no more." On this poignantly
historic occasion, let us imagine a rare compilation -- an LP record, audio
cassette or CD set - that showcased this unparalleled artist.
Quite obviously, such a compilation must first set the 'record' straight to
be a well-rounded collection. The album set will therefore begin with what
was undeniably Mukesh's first recorded song, Dil hi ho bujha hua to from the
1941 release Nirdosh (Ashok Ghosh), written by Neelkanth Tiwari and filmed
on the handsome singer himself. And equally for the 'record' on cassette and
CD, the last track must be that haunting number which Mukesh taped at Tardeo
's Famous, on the way from home to airport, for that fateful USA concert
tour from which he never came back -- Chanchal sheetal nirmal komal, for
Laxmikant-Pyarelal and Shashi Kapoor (on screen) in Raj Kapoor's Satyam
Shivam Sundaram. How aptly did Destiny engineer his swan-song for the banner
that is almost synonymous with him -- RK Films.
And Destiny gave RK and Mukesh a full hand in the final chapter of their
memorable bond -- even Mukesh's last song on stage was reportedly Jeena
yahaan marna yahaan (Mera Naam Joker) which has to be a part of such an
album. Few Shanker-Jaikishan-Raj Kapoor-Mukesh combos matched the perennial
simplicity of this song.
Mukesh died in 1976, but the last of the films in which he sang -- Naukri,
Chor Mandali et al -- were released in the early 80s. Besides SSS, there was
however nothing much to sing about in the songs various composers were
giving him at the fag end of his career, which included hits like Tumhari
Kasam, Mukti and his multi-singer collaborations for multi-starrers like
Dharam Veer, Amar Akbar Anthony, Imaan Dharam and Aahutee. Instead, one
would choose that wonderful underdog of a song, Chahe aaj mujhe napasand
karo (Darinda/Kalyanji-Anandji/1977), which brought back the Mukesh of two
more classics of yore that demand inclusion, Aa laut ke aaja mere meet (Rani
Rupmati/S.N.Tripathi) and K-A's own Chandi ki deewaar (Vishwas). Says son
Nitin, "At that point, people say that my father's voice had became tired.
That wasn't true. Composers were making songs that were too high-pitched for
him. The Darinda song was a beautiful exception."
But then Kalyanji-Anandji and Mukesh always shared a special bond. It was
Kalyanjibhai, remember, who had taught an unforgettable lesson to a
classical maestro, who had ridiculed Mukesh's success despite what he termed
his limitations. The maestro quietly picked up the harmonium and told the
Ustad to sing Chandan sa badan (Saraswatichandra). After the 'master' failed
to inject even the rudiments of the magical emotion that Mukesh had imbibed
it with, Kalyanji told him, "This is the reason why he travels in an Impala
while you ride a bus." This historic and all-round magnificent song
automatically gets included in a 'historic' fantasy album as the one song
that dwarfs most of K-A's other formidable beauties with Mukesh.
But Kalyanji's example cannot detract from Mukesh's unquestioned ability to
take a song tailored for him through impossible musical convolutions and
raag-daari. It was Mukesh and Mukesh alone who could infuse that special soz
and sur into wondrous creations that were extremely difficult vocally, and
no record of Mukesh would be thus complete without the challenge of S.N.
Tripathi's Jhoomti chali hawa (Sangeet Samrat Tansen), the seductive curves
and angles of Nain hamare saanjh sakaare (Annadata/ Salil Choudhury) and the
deceptively simple, but very abstruse twists and turns of Usha Khanna's Aaj
subah nahin hone wali (Hum Hindustani).
But then Mukesh was Mukesh for every composer -- from titans like
Shanker-Jaikishan and Laxmikant-Pyarelal, to classicists like Naushad and
Roshan, to smaller or anonymous composers like Daan Singh (My Love), Brij
Bhushan (Milap) and Prem Dhawan (Shaheed). What else explains the fact that
one of Mukesh's most brilliantly rendered object d'art of all time was for
the unknown Satish Bhatia in a V.Shantaram film, Yeh kaun chitrakaar hai
(Boond Jo Ban Gayi Moti)?
And speaking of that pioneering legend among filmmakers, how can we
eliminate Shantaram's spell-binding musical and choreographic extravaganza
Jal Bin Macchli Nritya Bin Bijli? As the first ever Indian album released in
Stereophonic Sound (in 1971), it had Mukesh as the only male voice singing,
with incomparable magnificence, Laxmikant-Pyarelal's awesomely orchestrated
Taaron mein sajke apne suraj se dekho dharti chali milne, and two other
spectacular duets with Lata Mangeshkar. Yes, Mukesh was as much in sync with
stereo as he was with the 1945 song that got him his very first
recognition -- Dil jaltaa hain to jalne de (Pehli Nazar/Anil Biswas).
Pehli Nazar, for all Anil Biswas' claims of making Mukesh "forget" the
Saigal influence, was completely Saigal-esque in tenor. The first
celebration of Mukesh sounding like Mukesh, and no one else came when Ram
Ganguly brought about his entry into the RK portals with Zinda hoon is tarah
(Aag), that pristine paean of pain. Followed S-J's Barsaat (1949) and Roshan
's own breakthrough film, Bawre Nain (1950). That Raj Kapoor, the actor, was
the prime factor responsible for getting Mukesh out of the Saigal groove is
a personal observation. Composers may have tried with varying success, but
the fiery, intense and modern persona of Raj Kapoor could not have possibly
jelled with a sonorous Saigal-like voice. And the RK-Mukesh bond peaked as
early as Awara hoon (Awara/S-J ) in 1951, to herald India's first cult song
and filmi gaana to taste huge and lasting success in far-off USSR.
The RK-Mukesh team, especially in conjunction with Shanker-Jaikishan, had
hits and masterpieces galore, but to me two songs stand out as all-time
classics in this legendary oeuvre -- Aa ab laut chalen (Jis Desh Mein Ganga
Behti Hai) and O mere sanam (Sangam), coincidentally both collaborations
with Lata. None of the RK-Mukesh numbers can hold a candle, I think, to the
sheer beauty of these spell-binders.
But Mukesh was by no means a complete echo of the phenomenal RK. He sang for
everyone, and everyone knows that Dilip Kumar signed Mela and Yahudi only
after hearing its recorded Mukesh numbers played out to him. To me the
Dilip-Mukesh team, is epitomised, however, less by these films or Andaz, but
by the sheer exuberance of one of Mukesh's most-spirited numbers, Suhana
safar aur yeh mausam haseen (Madhumati/Salil Choudhury). Here were two past
masters of romantic tragedy setting out new parameters to the joy of living!
Yes, indeed Mukesh had much more to him than just Raj Kapoor and the sad
song. Laxmikant-Pyarelal always had a special place for him and gave him
lots of variety -- and two more of their songs are a must in any authentic
Mukesh representation, Saawan ka mahina (Milan), the song that brought
Mukesh back into the reckoning in 1967 from his career's last trough, and
the devotional that surpasses all his film devotionals, Jyot se jyot jagaate
chalo (Sant Gyaneshwar). And probably even more than S-J, it was this duo
that gave us the sweetest, most intensely melodic Lata-Mukesh duets, whether
in Roti Kapada Aur Makaan, Gora Aur Kala, Dharti Kahe Pukar Ke, Jal Bin...,
Farz or that one song that is as immortal as its singers and composers -- Ek
pyar ka naghma hai (Shor).
Indeed, Manoj Kumar and Mukesh came up with scores that matched Raj Kapoor
in melody, if not in proliicity or popularity, and Mukesh was the voice of
Rajesh Khanna, Jeetendra and even Rajendra Kumar in some of their finest
numbers for an assortment of composers. And speaking of composers, how can
we forget that Mukesh was lucky for so many of them -- he dominated S-J's
first film Barsaat, sang in Laxmikant-Pyarelal's first film Parasmani, and
dominated the breakthrough scores of L-P (Milan), K-A (Chhalia and Himalay
Ki God Mein), Roshan (Bawre Nain and Malhar) and Khayyam (Phir Subah Hogi
and Kabhi Kabhie). On the other hand, even composers who did not have much
time for him, usually came up with their choicest compositions for him --
like S.D. Burman (O jaanewale/Bandini) and O.P. Nayyar (Chal
akela/Sambandh).
As we come to the finale, we have a tough time selecting the last two Mukesh
masterpieces from a sea of superlative sangeet. Should we choose the one
song for which he won a National award, or, since this has been an emotional
journey down memory lane -- do we choose a song that aptly mirrors our
sentiments to a singer like him on such an occasion? Unable to make a choice
at this climactic moment, we offer a double whammy -- Salil Choudhury's Kayi
baar yoon hi dekha hai (Rajnigandha), for which Mukesh won his only National
Best Playback Singer award in 1975, and that one classic that best
encapsulates our feelings towards him today, in Raja Mehndi Ali Khan's
exquisite Anita number, composed by L-P in semi-classical mode, Tum bin
jeevan kaise beeta poocho mere dil se/Poocho mere dil se.
-Rajiv Vijayakar