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The joy of being Jawsh
Musician Prem Joshua, who got his first name from Osho, says he is an Indian soul born in Germany.
If you like ambient, lounge, rock ’n’ roll, jazz, reggae and above all, ragas, Prem Joshua (‘Jawsh’) is your man. Indian purists may sniff that Joshua’s German tongue distorts Sanskrit shlokas and warn direly that mantras depend on correct enunciation.
But Joshua, who got his first name from Osho and anyway gets the Sanskrit sung by Manish Vyas for recordings and concerts and is adored, besides, by the urban fringe as the hottest thing since the Mrtyunjaya Japam, is fine with it.
“I was born and raised in the Black Forest region of Germany, which is very conservative,” says the 48-year-old, whose ten-year relationship with a gorgeous Singaporean Tamil dancer has just ended.
“I was already into playing the guitar for bands in high school, but just after that, something changed my life around completely, and that was hearing a recording of Pandit Ravi Shankar playing the sitar. I think he played Raga MaanjKhamaj. It just blew me away into another, exalted dimension of the human soul, like hearing the music of heaven.”
Joshua, like most self-respecting young Europeans in the 1970s dying of provincial suffocation, did the hippy thing, crossing overland from Europe to India through Iran, Pakistan and Afghanistan, when all the borders were open. In fact, he did it thrice over, but not to the Kullu-Manali adda favoured by the freaks of the blissed-out 70s.
Instead, he went the Goa way, Anjuna Beach, of course, but also ambled further into South India, finally landing up at Pune, where he joined Osho’s ashram.
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| Prem Joshua plays the bamboo flute, the sitar and the saxophone all in the course of one number and is not afraid of chanting Om triambakam yajamahe or Shambho Mahadeva. Photo: Jasjeet Plaha/HT |
“There was a fantastic gathering of international musicians there and that’s how I began to compose fusion,” says Joshua, who learnt to play the Indian bamboo flute, the saxophone (influenced greatly by Ustad Bismillah Khan’s style of shehnai) and particularly, the sitar, from Ustad Usman Khan of Pune.
Thereafter, his life has fallen into a rhythm, he says, based half in his home at Tuscany in Italy and the rest, wandering around the world performing. “But I come to India every year, in fact, if I add up how much time I have spent in each place over the last 17 years, it’s longest in India — ten years! Many people tell me that I am an Indian soul that was accidentally born in a German body.”
His music certainly supports that theory, a most melodic mix of ancient ragas and edgy modern electronic technology. Joshua has brought out 11 albums so far (Yatri has some great moments in particular) and has just released two more: Taranga and Ahir. The first marries ragas and mantras with urban lounge and jazz, while the second is the first co-production under just their names with his long-time musical partner and fellow German-Oshoite, Chintan Relenberg, a master of groove, loop and laptop.
Also part of the band are Sat Fukuda of Japan on the electric bass while an energy field juggling with Joshua is Rahul Sengupta on the tabla, darbukka, Peruvian kajon and congas. “Rahul’s Papa is Indian, obviously, but his Mummee is German,” says Joshua, making a droll face. “So he has German precision with the passion and oomph of an Indian. Just the way I want my music to be.”
World music, feels Joshua, is the true meeting of souls between cultures. “It is intelligent minds rising above the cheap noise, rooted in and with respect for tradition, yet with open minds willing to experiment and push boundaries. It’s a class act, like how the band Shakti used to be.”
The eclectic Indian worldview (Sarve jana sukhino bhavantu) is a philosophical base for such music, feels Joshua. “The soul of rock is very wild, screaming, raw energy. The soul of jazz is close to jumping off a roof to leave everything behind and discovering you can actually fly. Whereas in classical European music, it has to be played exactly the way it was written down by some composer in the 17th century.”
That’s unfair to Bach, Beethoven and certainly to Mozart, who is a reason for anyone, anywhere, to rejoice.
“See, it’s about silence, in the end,” reasons Joshua. “Indian classical music is supposed to have been divinely revealed to great mystics and sages. They seem to have used ragas to try and convey silence to those who do not grasp the concept of silence. The real spaces are those quiet, noiseless moments between bars of music.”
Joshua, who especially loves ragas Kiravani and Bageshri, feels ragas are a key, a beautiful, beckoning key to lead our souls finally into that haven of deep silence where we may hope to find God. “It’s something for young Indian musicians to be aware of: you can develop technical virtuosity as a performer. But unless you meditate and develop your inner self and learn to be humble and always questing, your music won’t touch the deepest heart where the finest feelings live.”
