Polyvocality and Forgotten Proverbs (and Persons): Ravi Shankar, George Harrison and Shambhu Das

[PMH 8.1 (2013) 68-90] Popular Music History (print) ISSN 1740-7133doi:10.1558/pomh.v8i1.68 Popular Music History (online) ISSN 1743-1646

© Equinox Publishing Ltd 2014, Unit S3, Kelham House, 3 Lancaster Street, Sheffield, S3 8AF.

Jeffrey W. Cupchik

Polyvocality and forgotten proverbs (and persons):Ravi Shankar, George Harrison and Shambhu Das*

Jeffrey W. Cupchik is formerly Visiting Assistant Pro-fessor of Ethnomusicology at the Eastman School of Music, University of Rochester. He writes on the influ-ence of Indian classical music on Western popular music and rock ’n’ roll culture in the era of psychede-lia. He also researches and writes on megaconcerts, George Harrison, ethnography, music and religion, and music, health and wellness. He is the outgoing co-chair of the Medical Ethnomusicology Special Interest Group of the Society for Ethnomusicology.

Adjunct Assistant ProfessorPublic Health Program Multidisciplinary StudiesCollege of Arts, Sciences and EngineeringUniversity of RochesterRochester, NY 14627 [email protected]@gmail.com

AbstractIn 1993, Sara Cohen issued a challenge to popular music scholars, asserting that the ethnogra-phy of local amateur bands could be as theoretically fruitful as studying celebrities. This article suggests a third angle and related challenge, problematizing the inclusion of testimonies by musicians who play an important role in the collaborative constellation around celebrities, but are placed decidedly in the margins of dominant narratives of popular music history. George Harrison’s sitar studies led to his creating a new hybridic musico-spiritual sound that was heard on Beatles’ albums, infusing the sixties’ psychedelic soundscape with ‘raga-rock’. According to my interviews with Shambhu Das, Ravi Shankar’s disciple appointed initially to assist Harrison with sitar fingerings, Das played a much more significant role than previous historical accounts have admitted. This raises important questions about the theoretical approach and method-ological application of a polyvocal texture where contradictions and ambiguities are revealed that challenge heretofore unquestioned narratives.

Keywords: critical ethnography; George Harrison; historiography; polyvocality; South Indian (Carnatic) music; spirituality

* I would like to thank Rob Bowman, Reebee Garofalo, Dave Laing and Robert Strachan for reading and commenting on earlier versions of this article. Thanks to Sarah Norman for her edit-ing expertise. I would like to express my gratitude to Shambhu Das for sharing his insights and memories.

mailto:jcupchi2%40z.rochester.edu?subject=

mailto:[email protected]

Polyvocality and forgotten proverbs (and persons) 69

© Equinox Publishing Ltd 2014.

BackgroundSara Cohen issued a challenge to popular music scholars by asserting that ethnog-

raphy of local amateur bands and community traditions would be as fruitful the-

oretically, though perhaps not as lucrative, as studying celebrities (Cohen 1993).

I suggest that a third angle could provide an important shift in the emphasis of

historically-oriented ethnographic research on popular music. This article takes

up the challenge by problematizing the process of investigating the testimonies

of musicians who play an important role in the collaborative constellation around

celebrities, but who have been placed decidedly in the margins of dominant nar-

ratives in popular music history. Through one of the most important collabora-

tions in popular music, George Harrison’s studies of sitar, Indian music, religion

and philosophy led to his experimenting with a ‘hybridic’ musico-spiritual sound

that not only made its way onto Beatles’ albums but also shaped what became

known as ‘raga-rock’ and the psychedelic soundscape of the sixties. His associate

in this effort, Shambhu Das, was appointed by Ravi Shankar to assist Harrison

with sitar fingerings. But, according to ethnographic interviews I conducted with

Das, the role he played was far more involved than previous historical accounts

have allowed us to know. This raises questions about the theoretical approach

and methodological application of a polyvocal texture where contradictions and

ambiguities are heard that challenge heretofore unquestioned narratives. What

is responsible scholarship? How is omission a preferred tactic when relationships

between those in the margins and those in the limelight would potentially shift

if certain data came to light? Ultimately, I suggest an evaluation of the interests

at stake on a case-by-case basis, since the ethnographer’s inscription constructs

an historical ‘reality’ (Cohen 1993: 124) with potentially high stakes in the eco-

nomically charged global popular music industry. However, I provide a contex-

tualized answer to the present dilemma, and show that both George Harrison

and Shambhu Das were influenced through their musical and spiritual pilgrim-

age to sites in India. Das became a renowned local sitar master in Toronto, known

equally well in the South Asian music community at home and abroad for his

presence as a senior disciple of Maestro Sri Ravi Shankar-ji, and his friendship

and musical collaboration with George Harrison during the Wonderwall sessions

in Mumbai in 1968. Das later developed a musical fusion style of Indian and West-

ern sonorities, inventing his DH3M (deep-hypnosis musical meditation method)

that he claims heals psychological and physical pain. Harrison’s musical output

was forever changed following his Indian classical music studies of the sitar, and

his adoption of Hindu beliefs.1 His influence on Western popular music through

1. For more on Harrison’s transformation, see Bannister (2002: 189).

70 Popular Music History


the hybridic songs featured on Beatles’ albums shaped the counterculture’s cre-

ative consumption of Eastern spirituality and creativity around psychedelic music

in the sixties and long afterward.

IntroductionAlthough several music scholars2 researching The Beatles’ South Asian music ‘bor-

rowings’ have given attention to (1) George Harrison’s study of South Asian clas-

sical music and (2) his incorporation of Indian musical elements into ‘hybridic’

Indian-Western spiritual-popular songs featured on Beatles albums from 1965

through 1968, this article indicates that important data concerning this moment

in popular music history still remains open to question. Even with three lengthy

autobiographical books: one by George Harrison, I Me Mine (1980); and two by

his musical guru, My Music, My Life (1968) and Raga Mala: The Autobiography of

Ravi Shankar (1999), ambiguities are exposed and new perspectives may be con-

sidered following the insights provided by Shambhu Das—disciple of Ravi Shankar

and sitar teacher and music collaborator of George Harrison.

My interviews with Shambhu Das took place during May and June 2003 in

his Toronto apartment where he lives with his wife and family. Das is known

in the Diasporic South Asian community for his discipleship with Ravi Shankar

and association with George Harrison. When Shankar made his annual visit to

Toronto to concertize, Das was one of the main people counted on for local

arrangements. Das was formerly the head of the Indian Classical music divi-

sion at the Music Department at York University in Toronto, Canada, where

he taught between 1970 and late 1974. When I met Das and conducted these

interviews, he had been teaching sitar privately on a regular basis for over three

decades.3

2. These include ethnomusicologists (David Reck: 1985; Stephen Slawek: 1991; Gerry Far-rell: 1997), musicologist Jonathan Bellman (1998), and music writer and Harrison biographer Simon Leng (2003).

3. At that time of my interviews with Das, I was a PhD student in ethnomusicology. I became interested in the historiography of George Harrison’s time spent in India, and his (personal, musi-cal and spiritual) explorations both in India and with Indian music, which influenced The Beatles’ musical directions and concrete musical output. I discovered that there were numerous (read: voluminous) sidebar references to the time Harrison spent in India, and too few instances of specific details. I listened closely to Harrison’s compositions in the hybridic Indian-popular music vein that incorporate South Asian musical idioms and spiritual notions in song lyrics in mean-ingful ways—many of which made it onto Beatles’ albums. I read all published accounts of Har-rison’s time spent on the Indian subcontinent—and, finding these to be inconsistent, I wanted to research further. A colleague mentioned Shambhu Das was in Toronto and I went to visit him. We had conversations such as those described in the article, which took the form of dialogic eth-nographic interviews. Initially, I mentioned my own interests: the fact that I was a composer and



Sara Cohen (1993: 123) has suggested in her article ‘Ethnography and Pop-

ular Music Studies’ that, ‘reliance upon theoretical models abstracted from

empirical data and upon statistical, textual and journalistic sources, needs to

be balanced by a more ethnographic approach’. Toward this end, through an

‘ethnographic approach’, this article provides a corrective and a potentially

useful precedent for further research in this direction by illuminating the

involvement of a background figure during an important moment in George

Harrison’s musical career—his friendship and collaboration with Shambhu Das

on the film score for the ‘psychedelic’ film Wonderwall (1968), which became

the first solo album recorded and produced by a Beatle while the band was still

together.

Cohen (1993: 127) highlights the fact that popular music scholars could make

an important shift in emphasis ‘from the study of the global to the local and from

work on production to consideration of consumption, subjectivity and identity in

the context of everyday life’.4 Cohen’s prescient article raises a number of con-

cerns impinging on the field. As well, through her own ethnographic research

of two Liverpudlian rock bands (Cohen 1991), she suggests that among music

scholars there may be a move away from the longstanding trend of concentrat-

ing ‘upon the small minority of professional performers and “stars”, rather than

the vast majority of amateur music-makers’ (1993: 126). In this article, I wish to

advance Cohen’s theory further, nuancing it, and expand this last point to focus

on researching not solely the socio-musical communities and recording projects

of either ‘amateur music makers’ or the ‘stars’, but the collaborative relation-

ships between these groups or individuals. My research indicates that extensive

primary source material, and a significantly less easily managed complex of con-

flicting discursive testimony, is available across lines of privilege at such a collab-

orative nexus. In the case of George Harrison’s studies of South Asian (Carnatic)

Classical music with Ravi Shankar and his disciple Shambhu Das, a nexus of con-

flicting testimonies (over a seemingly minor point—initially, at least) could raise

questions for popular music historians about whether there is a need to under-

take comparative research of this kind to (re)establish the verity of previously

ethnomusicologist, and I had studied in India for nearly two years myself (albeit I was primarily focused on Tibetan music and Buddhism). I told Das I was fascinated by the hybridic compositions Harrison created, that I had done similar creative work with Tibetan music. I told Das I was inter-ested in learning from him about his involvement in Harrison’s tutelage and subsequent musical collaborations, and we discussed his oral history and memory of the period and the decades that followed.

4. Although Cohen was writing in 1993, and the field of popular music studies has devel-oped considerably in directions and theoretical approaches since that time, I believe her main point remains valid and will be important to consider here.



unquestioned narratives such as historical accounts about certain key musico-

social relationships.

In this article, as in similar research projects involving popular music histori-

cal studies with both text-based research and ethnographic interviews, I follow

Richard Middleton who points out that ‘in the case of historically located forms

of popular music, it is necessary to place them within the context of the whole

music-historical field’ (1990: 11). I also respectfully keep in mind Stuart Hall’s

cautionary advice, ‘The assumption…that you might know before you looked

at cultural relations in general what, at any particular time, was a part of elite

culture or a part of popular culture is untenable’ (1978: 6–7).5 Thus, I contend

it is important to understand the socio-cultural and historical context not only

of the Wonderwall recording sessions and the earlier period of time Harrison

spent in India, but also the later discursive and consumerist relationships with

the audience—in this case, the sixties counterculture—which film director Joe

Massot and George Harrison as composer aimed at reaching with Wonderwall

(Massot 2000).

Noting the tendency toward reification in popular music narrativization,

Morten Michelsen explores how ‘to attend to complexity in historical narrativiza-

tion…and avoid the traditional traps and canonizations of history writing’s tele-

ological narratives’. He maintains that ethnography assists with ‘the need for a

critical reappraisal of historical representations’ of popular music, even as ‘his-

tories of rock have been…reified through permanent museums and exhibitions’

(2004: 19–20). Michelsen advocates the ‘deconstruction of culturally homogeniz-

ing histories…on the basis of contemporary ethnomusicology’. In this paper’s next

section, I heed Michelsen’s call for ‘a thick description of individual parts of music

cultures’, thereby harmonizing with the notion that ‘such complexifications are

necessary in order to destabilize existing historical accounts and offer different

models and different results’ (2004: 24).6 He notes that

The study of local cultures through fieldwork is one of ethnomusicology’s dis-tinctive traits and a modern and reflexive ethnomusicology has pointed out that there exists a diversity of pasts even within one single culture (2004: 27).

Indeed, a modern ethnography will reflect the inscription of a ‘diversity of

pasts’, yet a (re)presentation is nevertheless also a site for delineating differing

views. Thus, amid a reflexive interpretation of how decisions are made to encom-

5. Hall is quoted in Middleton 1990: 11.6. On the notion of ‘contextualism’, Michelsen explains elsewhere in the same article, ‘I

argue for historically thick descriptions that focus on contextualism and for constructions of the object of study as ever floating and dynamic in order to avoid teleological narratives’ (2004: 21).



pass diverse perspectives, there is ever a reckoning with, and reconciling of, dispa-

rate narratives by the ethnographer through an enactment of his or her authorial

voice, however subtly it may be conveyed. Even around a single intersubjective and

cross-cultural encounter—such as that observed between Shankar, Harrison and

Das—a polyvocal texture may be desirable wherein a repeatedly narrativized his-

torical omission can be revisited. The polyvocality called for may be valued as an

intervention after the fact, in a subsequent historical account, to (re)inscribe the

person(s) initially deemed marginal or incidental, thereby providing an alternate

view to the dominant and popular narrative.

Contesting subjectivities: Shambhu Das’s presenceI begin my investigation into this issue by providing three contrasting accounts

of Harrison’s interaction with Shambhu Das during his six-week stay in India in

the fall of 1966.7 In Ravi Shankar’s autobiography, Raga Mala, an entire chapter is

devoted to his relationship with George Harrison, yet Shambhu Das and his musi-

cal and social role with George Harrison are mentioned only once. Shankar (1999:

192–93) states with respect to training his newest disciple:

The training got under way. In ten minutes I could show him [Harrison] so much, but he needed to practise, and for this reason I brought along Shambhu Das, an advanced student whom I put in his service to guide him as he practiced the lessons I gave him, and to help him with fingering problems.

They were staying in the Taj Mahal Hotel in Mumbai at the time, and George

had cut his hair short and grew a moustache so he would not be recognized—that

is, until he was identified as ‘Beatle George’ by a young elevator operator in the

hotel. Ravi Shankar states:

That was when the big hullaballoo erupted, with thousands of boys and girls on the street outside the hotel shouting, ‘We want George!’ It was impos-sible to learn anything like that [in that environment], so we ran away to Srinagar in Kashmir. There we stayed in a beautiful houseboat which had two different rooms with attached bathrooms. I took Kamala along and we stayed in one room, while George and Pattie stayed in the other (1999: 193, my italics).

In contrast, Harrison’s version of his travel to India to study with Ravi Shankar

contains the following account (in I Me Mine) with a reference to ‘Ravi’s students’

but there is no mention of Shambhu Das by name:

7. Note that each of these accounts is displaced from the actual events, and from their com-parative accounts, by many years. I Me Mine was published first in 1980, while Shankar’s Raga Mala was published in 1999. Das’s oral account was given in 2003.



So…on the second trip8 to India—yoga. Then, in Bombay, I was doing sitar prac-tice every day with Ravi’s students and after that we went to visit all sorts of sights in India and then we went to Kashmir and stayed on a houseboat and did a lot of sitaring, a lot of practice, in a nice peaceful way. India was good to say the least… I went back in 1967, to record the Wonderwall album, and also did the Inner Light track and then in February 1968 I went back for the Rishikesh trip with Maharishi (Harrison 1980: 55, bold added).9

It should be noted that John Lennon was not named in Harrison’s autobiog-

raphy (an omission which offended him), and thus we should not be surprised if

Shambhu Das’s name is not mentioned. Now compare Shambhu Das’s oral testi-

mony with both of the above written accounts:

Well, Ravi Shankar, I should say, Guru Ravi Shankar-ji10 took him [Harrison] as a student to learn sitar. Since at that point, he didn’t have much time to devote to him, and I was with Ravi Shankar-ji taking care of his visa, taking care of his school and living with him. And knowing my nature, he said, he thought that it will be good [to have someone] to be with George, one reliable person who can either take care of some part of the music, or some part of showing the Indian culture.

That’s the way I was introduced to him. Then we became good friends. We became good friends. And I made him practice. When he came to Bombay Ravi Shankar said ‘You spend time with him at the Taj Mahal Hotel and other places’. I stayed, and then Beatles fans started bugging. Then, we decided to overnight, fly over to some isolated place. Me and George that time, took a flight and went to Kashmir. Of course [George’s wife] Pattie [was] also [there] at that time.

Then, Ravi Shankar-ji came with Kamala, who was that time his girlfriend, or wife, whatever you say. She used to live with him. They came. So, they rented a very luxurious houseboat isolated from downtown in the middle of the lake on a very Westernized houseboat. And one room [was] taken by Ravi Shankar-ji and Kamala and one room was [occupied] with George and Pattie and one room for me (interview with Das, April 2003).

Das’s account indicates that there were three bedrooms, a third in which he

stayed, while Shankar had claimed there were two. Das also claims that Ravi Shan-

kar was elsewhere in India (not in Kashmir) for much of the time, ‘touring, per-

forming and meeting people’; meanwhile Das had continued to teach Harrison on

a daily basis on the houseboat. Das further states that it was not Shankar who ran

8. The Beatles had been in India for three days after escaping from Manila, the Philippines, while on tour in the summer of 1966.

9. Neil Aspinall, who provided the editing for Harrison’s autobiography, missed an error here. Harrison did not go back to India in 1967, but rather in early January of 1968 for the Won-derwall recording sessions in Bombay.

10. The nominal suffix ‘-ji’ is an honorific, denoting respect. It is analogous to ‘-san’ in Japa-nese, or ‘-la’ in Tibetan language.



to Kashmir with Harrison, but that he had arranged a flight for himself, George

and Pattie. Ravi Shankar and Kamala arrived afterwards.

This confluence of disparate, incongruent narrative threads highlights the

importance of employing a polyvocal texture. Multiple simultaneous narratives

ricochet around this historical moment. Indeed, since George Harrison is the

editor of Shankar’s second autobiography, Raga Mala, two of the three voices are

very much in alignment on some details and not nearly so concurrent on others

against the more recent oral testimony of Das. In the numerous texts written on

this period of The Beatles, ‘popular musician Beatle George Harrison studying

at the feet of guru Ravi Shankar in India for six weeks’ is an unquestioned fact;

but with this new information from my interviews, an important question sur-

faces which teases out deeper issues: was Harrison imbibing India and its unique

spirituality through Das’s particular perspective of Hindu thought and personal

notions of music (of it being a spiritual medium) as much, or more, than from that

of Ravi Shankar? And, if he was, then should that change our perception of Harri-

son’s musical output and spiritual alignment following his travels, and throughout

his life, after this period of time in India?11

While this may read as though I am stirring the seeds of controversy, this is not

at all my aim. Rather, I wish to remind the reader that there may be advantages to

a polyvocality of the kind I am suggesting in my amendment to Cohen’s theory.

I have examined the discursive formation around Shambhu Das’s presence that

seems to resist the inclusion of his personal importance. Michael Muller (1997:

356) suggests that, ‘part of the motivation for this polyvocality (multiple voices) is

a political motivation of enfranchising diverse interested parties, similar to some

of the political motivations of participatory design’.12 Is polyvocality markedly dif-

ferent from historiography: collecting varied historical accounts from disparate

sources, comparing them and preparing to construct a more balanced account?

Need we arrive at a conclusive narrative in historical (ethno)musicological schol-

11. In the domain of historical popular music studies, particularly research on The Beatles—about whom the most prodigious work and voluminous attention has been given in popular music studies and rock ’n’ roll research to date—scholarship should be more than mere contro-versy. I am therefore inclined towards understanding the omission of Das as the result of oversim-plified and glorifying accounts in Shankar’s autobiography and Harrison’s. This allowance does not diminish the project of seeking out the important players in the ‘margins’ of pop music his-tory from being an illuminating and revelatory experience.

12. I find the work on polyvocality and heuristics here with regard to ethnocriticism, which is a ‘new, anthropologically-informed approach within literary criticism…that attempts to honor heterogeneity and multiculturalism’, useful in my research exercise on Shankar and Harrison because as a theory it is ‘concerned with collaboration and dialogue across differences in culture and in power’ (Muller 1997: 349).



arship where multiple narratives must finally coalesce? Muller maintains that it is

the motivational difference that gives polyvocality its textured richness, and thus I

suggest continuing to review Das’s account while holding this view in mind.

[An]Other in our midstDuring my conversations with Das, he expressed a wish to write his own autobio-

graphical text to inscribe himself into history. He mentioned his role and value as a

cultural ambassador and his role in effectively assisting his guru Ravi Shankar-ji to

provide Harrison with his first window to the music and spirituality of India. Das

asserts, ‘I was the one who first took George Harrison to Varanasi!’ Das showed

Harrison the holiest of India’s cities, enabling his first experience of the vital pulse

of the religion he would later adopt as a life path. Das seems to suggest: ‘How

could this event be undervalued in good conscience?’ Das says he was asked by

Harrison to take him to see various gurus. Obliging this request included making

a pilgrimage together to visit and make offerings to an unclothed Sufi meditator

high on a mountain in Kashmir. They also took a local trip, within Mumbai, to the

devotee of Sai Baba who had a painting of Sai Baba from which holy milk-nectar

emanated.13

These shared experiences spoke meaningfully to Das of his relevance, not

merely as a tour guide, but as a medium through which Harrison’s inspirational

experiences of Hindu religion and, by extension, his religiously inflected musical

output would come to be affected. Das clarified that he was, and is, not only an

important social and musical link between these two musical giants and cultural

icons and their relationship, but also and especially between their families. As I

left, he showed me a picture of his wife holding Ravi Shankar’s daughter, Norah

Jones, at the age of two. Das insists, ‘When Norah was born she came here!’ and

he thereby suggests further his music-familial connection to the multi-Grammy

Award winner.

While speaking with this esteemed artist, who was both in the service of his

guru and Harrison and a friend to each, the interview sometimes bore a heavy

purpose—as though I was speaking to the butler of Princess Diana in receiving his

somewhat gossip-like testimony in heightened tones. For Das then asked me to

be his messenger in telling his story to the world of his relationship with George

Harrison. While I was initially reluctant about involving myself in such a project,

I was persuaded of the importance of Das’s goal of establishing his personal nar-

13. Satya Sai Baba (1926–2011) was one of the most famous and revered gurus of India during the latter part of the twentieth century and early twenty-first century, and was reported to have had clairvoyance and perform various miracles.



rative and role in this legacy; he simply wished to establish his identity within The

Beatles’ historical narrative through the printed word.14

Polyvocality as a strategy for inclusionPolyvocality is a discursive, literary and ethnographic strategy that allows for the

inclusion of the disenfranchised from the margins; literally, it refers to the ‘many

voices’ and multiplicity of perspectives and agencies felt, heard and experienced

that are often omitted from ethnographic representations because we tend to

simplify many voices in exclusionary tight narratives that do violence to more

inclusive historiographical perspectives. It was initially implemented in the post-

colonial crisis in ethnographic representations within cultural anthropology in the

mid-late 1980s. James Clifford finds a ‘pervasive authorial function’ is at work in

ethnographic writing where ‘many voices clamor for expression’ (1986: 15). The

way I employ the term in this article is similar to that of Callaway (1992) who uses

polyvocality to serve the ‘political goal of not only providing a forum for the tradi-

tionally marginalized to be heard, but also to acknowledge the partiality of truth

in the ethnographic process’ (quoted in Sanger 2003: 37).

As discussed above, concerns with polyvocality cohere with issues of ethno-

graphic representation. Once an ethnographer (researcher-author) is presented

with a new narrative that may be properly credible but is different from previous

accounts, s/he may experience this as an historiographical challenge, or, indeed,

as a dilemma: whether to incorporate this new data into, and rupture, decades-

old reportage, or to once again omit this data, effectively silencing an individual’s

past involvement in a musical scene in order to avoid questions amid a potential

historical disjuncture. With regard to my own stance, rather than attend to Das’s

wishes (to help co-author his autobiography), as an ethnographic historian and

historical ethnographer of popular music history, I realize I am sitting on the horns

of a dilemma that is larger than my own concerns—whether or not and how to

make Das’s role and story known.Having unexpectedly encountered this predicament, I have become interested

in the social structure of narrativization inherent in the process of constructing eth-nographic literature—particularly where a potential re-examination of a dominant historical narrative is concerned. By social structure I refer to the sense of responsi-bility that rests on the shoulders of all those who are doing the work of narrativ-ization, deciding whether to include what and whom in the margins of the pages

14. Das maintains a website featuring newspaper articles by journalists regarding his artis-tic accomplishments, teaching engagements, interfaith activities, and charity fundraiser perfor-mances. See www.shambhudas.com.

http://www.shambhudas.com



of history; and, in this particular case, how to draw the line that determines the width and breadth of a particular margin of a single page of history regarding a musical collaborator who was perhaps quite influential on global popular music? Illuminating the advantages of the ‘complexification’ of an ethnographic approach (after Michelsen) in this piece is not merely the ethnographic interview process the author engaged in with Das, but also the self-reflexivity the author must exercise in considering all the motivations and interests (including those of the author and the parties he aims to represent). Importantly, critically analysing potential outcomes of particular wording is necessary because financial margins as well as social mar-gins may be at stake. Das negotiates his identity in terms of his roles as dutiful dis-ciple of Ravi Shankar, and friend and co-disciple and collaborator with Harrison on music projects—but it just so happens (re finance) that Harrison is a Beatle.

Polyvocality here (im)poses a political question because of the power invested in The Beatles’ canonized historical narrative: whether to include a voice from the historical margins who sees himself as having been effective, and even instrumen-tal (and Das may well have been, particularly at that critical moment), in inspiring and contextualizing Harrison’s spiritual directions and musical output. We know that the ethos in the sixties’ ferment and particularly The Beatles’ composition style was attuned to the absorption of local and cultural influences that reflected social significance. Poetically, the protagonist here sees himself as socially significant.

Spiritual (tour)guide or mentor?When Das described to me the profound connection between South Asian music and Vedic religion, I initially felt guilty for being sidetracked toward philosophy, thinking to myself that we should get back to talking about his role in helping Harrison to record the Wonderwall film soundtrack in Bombay. But I remembered what the late ethnomusicologist Professor Ronald Smith from Indiana Univer-sity said in 1996 about paying attention by listening and not interrupting, and it proved to be a correct dictum in this case because of the importance of what Das revealed about his knowledge and personal teaching style.15 Das states ‘that is why we say, “Music is the easiest way to reach God”’. With this definitive statement, a pause sat between us in the air. ‘I believe that’, I assured him. Das continued:

15. Smith insisted upon one methodology, in particular, in the context of the ethnographic interview. Allow me to paraphrase, though I believe this is quite close: ‘If your informant/con-sultant tells you something you think you have heard before, respectfully listen, don’t ever stop them, even if you’ve heard the same story from them a thousand times. They might tell the story differently and they might tell you something new. Ninety-nine percent of the time they’re going to tell you, in the way they tell you, or in the way they don't tell you, some new piece of informa-tion that is going to help you, or not, but you’ve got to be listening. And anyway, it’s disrespectful to interrupt. So sometimes just shut up and listen.’



When an accomplished musician ‘gets into’ the music, what happens? He’s cut off from the rest of the world. His eyes are like this [closes his eyelids while look-ing upwards]. Then there are certain key notes he’s playing with, and he’s linked with God. That’s when you get into the distinction of struck sound and unstruck sound: Ahata and Anahata. Struck sound is hitting a string with a plectrum, or with a bow. Anahata, or unstruck sound, means the universal sound: like OM, or AH. And though the performer is playing the struck sound, when one is trying to reach the peak, the climax at the tip of experience, they’re trying to connect to the unstruck sound. Then you close your eyes. Even the listeners close theirs, think-ing, ‘Ah, what a nice…’. With closed eyes and in that…[euphoric mind-space(?)], they’re lost in that clear, such a wonderful aroma of environment, you are like, like floating on that. That is God! You know, nobody can explain the rupa. Rupa means, ‘structure of the god’—they can’t say anything about it. But when a person becomes self-realized through different disciplines, what do they see? They are anandum, which is full bliss. They are lost there. There is nothing to explain, you cannot explain what you realized. That realization is the God [my bold].

While moved by his elucidation of the ineffable, I ask Das if he recalls having

explained these connections between music and spirituality to George? Das

answers modestly:

Through visiting these places [like Varanasi], and understanding what these places were, and how they connected to religion, he realized. That’s why he tried to be so close to this culture… Lately he was going to the Krishna temple a lot. I heard that in his will [and testament] he gave a million dollars to ISKCON to build a Krishna temple in Varanasi.

One hears in Das’s account his contagious enthusiasm and unabashed love for

South Asian music and its imbedded connection with the Hindu pantheon and

the holy Vedic scriptures.16 The younger Harrison would have been privy to hear-

ing about this connection—reaching and experiencing God through music—while

spending time with Das as they travelled on pilgrimage to India’s sacred places,

visiting yogis in the Himalayas, as was Harrison’s expressed ambition.17 Das would

have been explaining the depth of the connection between God and music within

the South Asian classical music system (such as in the account which follows

below) and the extent to which the musical performance is goal-directed towards

a climax whereby both performer and listener aim to realize their divine connec-

tion with God.18 Das explains:

16. Analogous to the Vedas in terms of religious importance to Hindu thought would be the Old Testament to Christian thought. It is a foundational textual source for religious study and realization.

17. Harrison became interested in the yogis of the Himalayas after Ravi Shankar gave him the book Autobiography of a Yogi (1977 [1946]) authored by Paramahansa Yogananda.

18. Daniel Neuman states that ‘music as a means of devotion is the most common idea expressed by musicians’ in the Indian classical system (1990: 60). Kippen notes that Narayan



One Veda is called Samveda, and from this chants used to be three notes. They used to chant these. Then slowly slowly they introduced one after another until they had one octave.

I offer, ‘Sa Re Ga Ma Pa Da Ni’.

Yes, yes. So, that is the origin, and then after that, that period when that kind of song, or chant, was chanted was known as the satra yuga, or ‘divine life’ [epoch]. Now the period we’re in is the kali yuga [epoch of degeneration]. But at that time, the singers were known as the gandharva, and dancers apsaras, and musi-cians kinara. That’s why Ravi Shankar named his school Kinara School of Music, to refer to the period of ‘divine life’. So that’s the connection with the music. Now Lord Shiva—who is one of the trinity, Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva [Cre-ator, Preserver and Destroyer]—Shiva has a different posture, a dancing posture which shows a different aspect of life. That is why they say Shiva is one of the originators of the music. His counterpart, or consort, is Parvati. All these ragas and raginis, you see most of the names, Bhairav, morning raga. Another name for Lord Shiva is Bhairav. That is how the connection is made there. Spiritual music in different centuries changed their performance context. Some went to spiritual music, others to entertainment. North Indian or Hindustani music were used more for court or entertainment, while Carnatic or South Indian music is more associated with the music in the temples. That’s how it branches. When you see that each note—Sa…Re…Ga…Ma—has a meaning, each sound has a connection with the chakras which control the energy flow.

That’s why Ravi Shankar-ji says, ‘raga is that which colours your mind’.19

It’s a huge subject, and if you go into more detail you can say which deities are associated with Sa, which are connected with Re, and all have a different physi-cal posture and meaning.

That’s why they say that in every religion the main media is music. If you go to church early morning on Sunday, you hear the organ; if you’re Muslim you hear the Koran in the early morning. Buddhism…of course. All the religions have it! If you go to a Jewish synagogue they have it there! Every religion has music as a fundamental part of their temple worship services!

Forgotten proverbDuring our conversations I continued to wonder if this was the way Das talked

with Harrison, because Das would be telling me stories from the lineage of ancient

Bhatkande (1860–1936) was concerned that ‘the spiritual element of Indian music and the highly theoretical knowledge, which was traceable to the ancient treatises on music, were disappearing’ (1988: 24). In addition to the communion between performer and listener, between the teacher and disciple, there should be ‘faith and trust in the advice and control of the Ustad. Once this has happened, it would lead to establishing the spiritual communion and intimate rapport between master and disciple…[that]…should not be broken’ (Kippen 1988: 114). For more information on the relationship between South Asian classical music and spirituality, see Kippen (1988: 129), Neuman (1990: 60-61), Qureshi (2007) and Wade (1979).

19. Das paused in awe to mark this statement.



gharānās of India, revealing some of the oldest myths of the 3000-year-old Veda

scriptures that illustrated the musical connection with spirituality. While Shan-

kar was not around all the time to be with Harrison, Das might have expounded

upon Hindu philosophy, music and spirituality—instructing Harrison not solely in

the fingering positions on the fret board of the sitar,20 but also in the incalculably

inspiring stories of the historical and cultural meaning of the music he was learn-

ing and in which he was immersing himself.

If this were the case, then Das would be correct in asserting that he had an

integral role in this musical transmission, and his may be an important story that

ought to be told. He had an influence on George Harrison’s experience of India,

and inscribing the personal connection between the two of them would not nec-

essarily be seen as an opportunistic act of gaining long overdue credit, but a way

of affirming his own identity. Das tells me that he likens his purpose in writing

and publishing his own story to the reason why there is an age-old adage: ‘behind

every great man there is a great woman’.21 Despite the gendered origin of this ref-

erence to his perceived public marginality, Das appears to find aspects of his own

truth, and identity, in this proverbial reference.

Forgotten personsPersonally, I suspect that Das’s role in working with and instructing Harrison was

even more subtle and intimate than he wished to reveal. As a vessel of Ravi Shan-

kar’s musical tradition who is living within the context of the guru-shishya param-

para (master–disciple) devotional relationship, and as a disciple who is asked to

assist and instruct another disciple in this great guru’s ‘musical family lineage’ (the

Shankar gharānā), Shambhu was ‘lineage brother’ to George in a very real sense. At

the same time, George Harrison’s relationships with The Beatles were increasingly

strained because of his self-consciousness about the limited opportunities for his

musical creativity while the group remained under the dominion of the Lennon–

McCartney oligarchy. Indeed, during the height of The Beatles’ popularity they were

creative geniuses, all four of them, yet not all of them were receiving credit for their

creative capabilities. Perhaps Harrison then, in a way, shared Das’s discomfort now.Displaced by forty years, their struggle, as I understand it from a distance, is

not terribly different. There is synthesis here between these two musicians. And this theme of ‘wishing recognition’ while ‘feeling disenfranchised and overshad-

20. Harrison (1980: 55–56) goes into some detail on the fingerings and methodology of learning the sitar.

21. Das quoted this for me to help me realize what he felt the significance of his role was between Ravi Shankar and George Harrison.



owed’, trying to establish your unique musical voice against the flow of the atten-tion given to artists associated with you, in a way that is respectful and not merely salutary, is seemingly the story of many. Harrison named his own record company Dark Horse Records—the term signifying ‘one who comes from behind to win the race’.22 I do not know what Das hopes to win, besides written recognition for his role in The Beatles historiography.23

Polyvocality against monolithic historyI agree with Cohen’s suggestion that ethnomusicology24 can contribute to popu-lar music studies by focusing not merely on the celebrities, but on lesser-known local artists. However, the question may be asked, What is a sound methodol-ogy for discussing the lesser-known collaborators in constellation around major artists? This is of particular concern when approaching the re-examination of a critical historical moment such as the heyday of The Beatles. In this case, the col-laboration happens to have been influential at the moment when the individual Beatles band members were first beginning to explore solo careers. Moreover, this led Harrison into new creative directions, writing new songs with Indian classical instruments and idioms, and fostering the crucially significant inception of ‘raga-rock’, a new intercultural, ‘hybridic’ musico-spiritual style.

To put the question another way: while it may be valuable for popular music

historians to employ the ethnographic methodology to research the past, upon

finding contradictions to prevailing narratives, how should we handle incongru-

encies? How can we inscribe, in a way that is respectful, the voices of a famous art-

ist’s associates when we find ourselves noting variances between their accounts?

22. Harrison was the first Beatle after the band broke up to release a solo album; in this case, a triple solo LP, All Things Must Pass (1970). Harrison created Dark Horse Records as his own label in 1974 through which he produced several Ravi Shankar albums, including I Am Missing You (1974).

23. In recent years, Das has found alternative means for public recognition as an invited international performer at benefit concerts and interfaith festivals. In 2004, Das became a Guin-ness Book of World Records holder for performing sitar non-stop for 24 hours in a live concert set-ting. His intervention was staged in order to raise awareness and funds for those suffering in Bangladesh and India. In a sense, this is reminiscent of Harrison’s Concert For Bangladesh project in 1971, a megaconcert he staged on Ravi Shankar’s request, a two-set, one-day, event at Madison Square Garden to raise money for the famine ravaged areas in the flooded Ganges river basin. Das’s website features scanned newspaper articles and official letters of invitation to perform. See http://www.shambhudas.com/bio.html (accessed 12 October 2013).

24. Here I will propose that ethnomusicology may be defined as an interdisciplinary field in which research often involves the anthropological method of ethnographic fieldwork (sometimes in tandem with other methodologies) to examine the relationships between musical practices and social meaning in varied sociocultural contexts. For further definitions of ethnomusicology with respect to ethnographic fieldwork, see Kaemmer (1993) and Merriam (1964).

http://www.shambhudas.com/bio.html



This is an especially complex problem when new voices are competing along-

side already published, and much-referenced, narratives. Given the high stakes

in the popular music industry, such ethnographic interviewing and inscribing, if

not done carefully, could unearth many disturbing, frankly mendacious, or even

defamatory elements. Therefore, we must ask: Is the answer to embrace polyvo-

cality as a good theoretical idea, but in practice not write down these stories? And

would exercising a silence of omission on our part not implicate us in assisting

in the continued historical displacement of these stories and their authors from

gaining closer proximity to the centre?

As ethnographers, we arrive initially seeking answers and deeper illumina-

tion of an historical moment; in so doing, we often entreat voices from the mar-

gins. And when we write, we exercise our own agency in negotiating the extent

of their inclusion in our texts. Thus, it is with a certain amount of trepidation

that I commit to paper some of Shambhu Das’s statements and sentiments, for

it is likely that they would be interpreted further in subsequent studies. As a

caveat, then, let it be known that Das speaks of his guru Ravi Shankar-ji—who

initially accepted him into his gharānā (‘musical family’) and later sent him to

Toronto to teach at York University (1970–74)—with tremendous devotion and

respect. As well, he speaks of ‘George’ with a warmth and softness that reveals

his sense of a friendship—a relationship that has yet to be addressed fully by

popular music historians. Thus, while my present narrative offers a corrective, it

may not be revelatory of historical truths and inconsistencies in the most help-

ful way for all interested parties. For I am admittedly concerned not only with

rescuing Das’s story from the unembellished margins of a linear and dominant

historical narrative, but also with the theoretical and practical implications of

the ethnographic enterprise in popular music and historical ethnomusicologi-

cal scholarship.

With recognition of these complex issues, even while admitting a reflexive

awareness of sociocultural sensitivities, there may still be repercussions and other

unforeseen effects in bringing this issue to light. Cohen (1993: 124) recognizes

that,

The ‘objective’, ‘unreciprocal’ stance of anthropologists has rightly been ques-tioned and the dichotomies of them and us, self and other, objective and subjective, challenged in favor of a more negotiated reflexive, discursive or intersubjective model of ethnographic practice….[where] the ethnographic text becomes a version of reality created or concocted by the anthropologist in col-laboration with her informants.

For Cohen, then, the task of, and responsibility for, establishing an historical

‘reality’ is still largely up to the ethnographer. The ethnographer needs to weigh



the scales, and consider the result of inscribing marginal ties and tales—at what

cost to the informants, or to those whose narrative had heretofore received the

strongest investment? For popular music scholars engaged in historical ethno-

graphic research at the margins, by consulting with influential collaborators

they may be faced with the unenviable task of making just such a calculation.

The tenuous configuration of the popular music historian’s position as the sound

box between the artists and their massive public (a public who has long since

received and digested one historical version) needs to be calibrated and weighed

in each specific situation.

My interviews with Das raise these important questions about using an eth-

nographic approach that produces a polyvocal texture—one that happens to

challenge a prevailing narrative. In her observations on reconstructing the past

in popular music, Sarah Thornton explains the value of an academic approach to

assigning historical importance to a pop cultural event (1990: 87).

Histories necessarily exclude, but academic histories are in a position to prob-lematize what has been left out. To mark the difficulties of a particular histo-ry’s construction, to highlight its sources and its omissions could, paradoxically, bring us closer to the popular past (1990: 94).25

Recalling Dave Laing’s view of rock n’ roll as emergent and continuous rather than

revolutionary (1969: 65), Keith Negus claims there is no singular history of pop-

ular music in rock historiography, as multiple histories interweave and conflict

(1996: 137–38). He states that writing history is an ongoing project of establish-

ing collective memory and personal identity, which projects a past into a future. In

his Popular Music in Theory, Negus embraces Tosh’s notion that history can serve

as ‘collective memory’, a shared experience of the past ‘through which people

develop a sense of their social identity and future prospects’ (Tosh 1984 in Negus

1996: 137).

Whereas individual memory often has emic interests, because these narra-

tives occur around The Beatles, they have etic cultural significance, are part of the

collective memory in many parts of the globe, and therefore attract attention to

themselves and lend validation to their own stories. Moreover, reconciling col-

lective memory with personal memory is a site of frenetic authentication in the

Internet era that can generate friction with the otherwise smooth logic of printed

historical works.

Michelsen and Negus evidently share the view that history can be a collective

understanding that lies open to revision (but not revisionist histories with politi-

25. Although Thornton is writing about the disco era, her concern with historiography of the recent popular past makes these points relevant.



cal agenda), where popular music history is a porous, relational, historiographical

‘complex’ of interests. Just as the history of so-called rock ‘nobility’ is both writ-

ten and embodied in a song (and the artists’ story/ies of the creation of that song

or album), so historians of the recording studio/space and/or others in proxim-

ity (audio engineers, producers, etc.) can likewise author their experiences of the

event. The democratization of historical narrativization appears also to be linked

with the technological advancement of a new web generation; even as personal

computers atomize personal experience, they allow for individual inclusion and

social valuation relative to prevailing accounts.26

Finally, it would seem appropriate to suggest, when exploring ethnographic

accounts of individuals in the creative constellation around major artists, that

there ought to be clear criteria for the claim that one’s story be included in the

(re)narrativization of a dominant historical narrative. Here I will propose four

such criteria: the logic of presence (‘I was there’, a common trope in ethnographic

writing and ethnographic film, especially rock music videography27); perspective (‘I

was with the artists, saw and experienced something unique, and can offer a dif-

ferent interpretation from that which has been recorded in previous accounts’);

proximity (‘I was close enough to the creative process to have made an impact’);

and personhood (‘my view, along with others, is significant to consider’). The last

of these emerges from the democratization of selfhood that is implied through

the global reach of technology, which provides a means for (re)narrativization

and/or commentary (i.e., anyone can post a clip on YouTube). The qualitative data

from ethnographic reportage in Das’s case satisfies all four criteria of presence,

perspective, proximity and personhood; yet, memory is ever a contested space.

Within this space, there may be a way for individual histories, personal recol-

lections and individual identities to be negotiated and repositioned; hence, the

value of, and perhaps need for, an ethnographer/arbiter to complexify and sub-

sequently reconcile accounts in the historiographical enterprise of writing popu-

lar music history.

26. In this context, Kenneth Gergen (1999: 27–28) notes that polyvocality requires ‘negoti-ating the complexities of multiplicity’. Whereas polyvocality allows one to be ‘privy to multiple realities’, at the same time, the ‘comfort of parochial univocality is disturbed’.

27. In the production of historical ‘rockumentary’ vignettes for Behind the Music (USA) or Much Music Bio (Canada) and equivalent biographical programmes created by the music televi-sion channels in other countries, the sound engineers, producers, managers, spouses, and a host of other professionals in the creative constellation around an artist and album may be inter-viewed. Many peripheral voices can be edited in and receive airtime if their comments are con-sidered germane to the music-making process, deemed interesting factually, and found to retain ‘entertainment’ value.



ConclusionsCohen’s advocacy to expand the purview of ethnographic studies to popu-

lar music scholarship was well-advised. Examining creativity and community in

what was once thought to be the ‘margins’ of popular music studies is no longer

an unusual or even tangential research domain. There are many advantages to

doing local ethnographic research of popular-music groups and individual artists.

Because access is far more easily acquired for both parties in the equation, both

may receive more immediate potential fruits resulting from such ethnographic

collaboration. For the ethnographer, it is nowhere near as unwieldy to sched-

ule interviews through the layers of people surrounding the artists. For the art-

ists, reciprocal obligations between the institutionally affiliated ethnographer and

the local artists offer another way for the latter (read: ‘ethnographic subjects’) to

reach a potentially wider audience.28

Generally, as Cohen points out, there are benefits to studying the music and

lives of famous persons and their artistic output. By the same token, there may be

detrimental aspects to studying the musical disenfranchisement of those who, for

reason of finances, fame, personal obstacle, or other factors, do not arrive at the

public’s radio station with their own music on air. And what of ethnographic stud-

ies in a third category: the lesser-known artists who are closely linked with world-

famous musicians? Shambhu Das’s case is uniquely important; indeed it is pivotal

to popular music history.

For Das’s part: the hybridic music that resulted from the collaboration between

himself and George Harrison on the Wonderwall recording project inspired

Das’s ongoing musical career in bridging the spiritual-musical aspects of Indian

and Western music in a more explicitly eschatological vein. Das later created a

new musico-philosophical approach he named DH3M (‘deep hypnosis music-

meditation method’). According to Das:

The techniques [involve] a unique combination of Western science and Eastern wisdom, of ancient philosophy and collaboration of celestial music-DH3M…for reaching a new level of consciousness and to heal common diseases and human pain, [it] involves deep-hypno relaxation concentration and listening to sug-gested musical selections in an altered state of consciousness (Das and Majum-dar 1996: 3).

28. Many of these advantages may be seen in several ethnomusicological studies since the publication of Cohen’s article. Ellen Koskoff has, for several years, encouraged her students’ eth-nographic study of local music traditions in the small city of Rochester, in Upper Western New York State. Similarly, the Ethnomusicology program at York University in Toronto, Canada, where I completed my doctoral work, has a veritable library of ‘local’ diasporic musical traditions as a result of the emphasis on the glocal.



He provides an analogy for what may be achieved through exploring altered

states of consciousness:

Human consciousness is like a many-storied skyscraper. Its ground floor rep-resents normal consciousness—the state of mind we ordinarily use in think-ing, problem solving, feeling, sensing, remembering, communicating and so on. In this skyscraper of the mind there are many higher and deeper levels of consciousness: realms of creativity, insight, self-realization, deep memory, the unconscious, dreams, transpersonal and religious experience. However few people ever go beyond the mind’s first floor (Das and Majumdar 1996: 4).

Das asserts that his method offers ‘a very natural healing source of common dis-

eases, especially for mental disturbances, restores emotional equilibrium and

brings “peace of mind”’ (1996: 5).

For Harrison’s part: since The Beatles were massively influential social, cul-

tural and musical trendsetters, his incorporation of the Indian music sonorities

of sitar and harmonium (etc.), and spiritually attuned ‘universal love’ lyrics (for

example, of ‘Within You, Without You’) featured on Beatles’ albums, marked the

inception of a new ‘hybridic’ East–West style of music composition—a style that

is immensely widespread today.29 The Wonderwall recording sessions facilitated

by Das in Mumbai that produced the track ‘Inner Light’30 were part of this legacy;

and ultimately, following Harrison’s lead, The Beatles’ trip to India and Rishikesh

was widely known to provide exploration through meditation to new windows of

consciousness that influenced their music.31 These windows were peered through

29. If we hear only two seconds of one musical phrase composed by Harrison during this era, the emblematic word ‘re-a-lize’ in the song ‘Within You, Without You’ that opens side 2 on the album Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band has many of the characteristic musical elements of the genre. Among all of Harrison’s Indian-popular hybridic songs, the song’s rhythm (in 5/4) and melody are extremely well-suited to the lyrics. We hear Harrison comping (doubling) his vocal melody on a dilruba in an exaggerated symmetrical rhythm—a continuous stream of eighth-notes connecting each long syllabic phrase in the song. Within this hypnotic rhythmic lilt, the melodic setting for the word ‘realize’ is overly symbolic. From the lower neighbour note on the second syllable ‘-a-’ follows an overtly obvious melodic leap upwards to the syllable ‘-lize’ giving a programmatic-like sense of rapidly arising awareness, imitative of the awak-ening to a consciousness of ‘love’ that is the essential ‘message’ of the song. The metronomic cyclical rhythmic pattern and ethereal voice performing the melody is accentuated, at once, by the exoticized sonority of the sitar, the improvisational play on the tabla drums, and the tanpura drone instrument, all heard in Indian (Carnatic) classical music. This became endemic to the ‘psychedelic’ sound in that period, which is likely indebted to the six-week period Harri-son spent in India in 1966, much of it with Das—although it is well-documented that this song and lyrics emerged while Harrison played a harmonium at Klaus Voorman’s house at a party months later.

30. Harrison’s ‘Inner Light’ was the B-side of the Beatles’ ‘Lady Madonna’, a song by Paul McCartney.

31. The book of photographs by Paul Saltzman (2000), a participant at the ashram of Maha-



and experimented upon further by the counterculture youth movement as psy-

chedelic culture became increasingly prominent.

Alternative ways of experiencing an altered state of consciousness through

music, and across musical cultures, are embraced just as intensely today in music

(and in music scholarship) but for ‘healing’ purposes. This trend started before

The Beatles, but it was George Harrison’s openness to the musical and spiritual

life of India that led him into musical studies and collaborations with Ravi Shan-

kar and Shambhu Das. His experiences and creative output in India helped Indian

classical music and spirituality to become associated with Western philosophi-

cal ideas of spiritual love. He quickly saw both sound and philosophy going main-

stream to shape what we know today as psychedelic culture and transcendental

musical experience in the sixties.

ReferencesBannister, Matthew. 2002. ‘The Beatle Who Became a Man: Revolver and George Harrison’s

Metamorphosis’. In ‘Every Sound There Is’: The Beatles’ Revolver and the Transformation of Rock and Roll, ed. Russell Reising, 183–93. Farham and Burlington, VT: Ashgate.

Bellman, Jonathan. 1998. ‘Indian Resonances in the British Invasion, 1965–1968’. In The Exotic in Western Music, ed. Jonathan Bellman, 292–306. Boston: Northeastern Uni-versity Press.

Callaway, Helen. 1992. ‘Ethnography and Experience: Gender Implications in Fieldworks and Texts’. In Anthropology and Autobiography, ed. Judith Okely and Helen Callaway, 60–85. New York: Routledge. http://dx.doi.org/10.4324/9780203450536_chapter_2

Clifford, James. 1986. ‘Introduction: Partial Truths’. In Writing Culture: The Poetics and Politics of Ethnography, ed. James Clifford and George E. Marcus, 1–26. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Cohen, Sara. 1991. Rock Culture in Liverpool: Popular Music in the Making. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

—1993. ‘Ethnography and Popular Music Studies’. Popular Music 12/2: 123–38. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/S0261143000005511

Das, Shambhu, and Samprasad Majumdar. 1996. Music and Meditation. Toronto (unpub-lished booklet).

Farrell, Gerry. 1997. Indian Music and the West. Oxford: Clarendon Press.Gergen, Kenneth J. 1999. ‘The Self: Death By Technology’. The Hedgehog Review. University

of Virginia: Centre for Religion and Democracy-Institute for Advanced Studies in Culture. http://www.iasc-culture.org/THR/archives/Identity/1.1EGergen.pdf (ac-cessed 14 December 2013).

Hall, Stuart. 1978. ‘Popular Culture, Politics and History’. Popular Culture Bulletin 3. Open University duplicated paper.

rishi Mahesh Yogi during the Beatles’ visit in 1968, and a friend of Harrison, offers a significant documentation of this period and the extensive hours Harrison spent practising sitar every day in his room.

http://dx.doi.org/10.4324/9780203450536_chapter_2

http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/S0261143000005511

http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/S0261143000005511



Harrison, George. 1980. I Me Mine. New York: Simon and Shuster.Kaemmer, John. E. 1993. Music in Human Life: Anthropological Perspectives on Music. Austin,

TX: University of Texas Press.Kippen, James. 1988. The Tabla of Lucknow: A Cultural Analysis of a Musical Tradition. Cam-

bridge Studies in Ethnomusicology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Laing, Dave. 1969. The Sound of Our Time. London: Sheed and Ward.Leng, Simon. 2003. The Music of George Harrison: While My Guitar Gently Weeps. London:

Firefly Publishing.Massot, Joe. 2000. Wonderwall: The Book. London: Pilar.Merriam, Alan P. 1964. The Anthropology of Music. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University

Press.Michelsen, Morten. 2004. ‘Histories and Complexities: Popular Music History Writing

and Danish Rock’. Popular Music History 1/1: 19–39. http://dx.doi.org/10.1558/pomh.1.1.19.56022

Middleton, Richard. 1990. Studying Popular Music. Milton Keynes: Open University Press.Muller, Michael J. 1997. ‘Ethnocritical Heuristics for Reflecting on Work with Users and

Other Interested Parties.’ In Computers and Design in Context, ed. Morten Kyng and Lars Mathiassen, 349–80. Boston: MIT Press.

Negus, Keith. 1996. Popular Music in Theory: An Introduction. Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press.

Neuman, Daniel M. 1990. The Life of Music in North India: The Organization of an Artistic Tra-dition. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1990. Originally published in 1980 with Wayne State University Press.

Qureshi, Regula Burckhardt. 2007. Master Musicians of India: Hereditary Sarangi Players Speak. New ed. New York: Routledge.

Reck, David R. 1985. ‘Beatles Orientalis: Influences from Asia in a Popular Song Tradition’. Asian Music 16/1: 83–149. http://dx.doi.org/10.2307/834014

Saltzman, Paul. 2000. The Beatles in Rishikesh. New York: Penguin Group.Sanger, Pamela Chapman. 2003. ‘Living and Writing Feminist Ethnographies: Threats in a

Quilt Stitched From the Heart’. In Expressions of Ethnography: Novel Approaches to Quali-tative Methods, ed. Robin Patric Clair, 29–44. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.

Shankar, Ravi. 1968. My Music, My Life. New York: Simon and Shuster.—1999. Raga Mala: The Autobiography of Ravi Shankar. Ed. and introduced by George Harri-

son. Surrey: Genesis Publications.Slawek, Stephen M. 1991. ‘Ravi Shankar as Mediator between a Traditional Music and

Modernity’. In Ethnomusicology and Modern Music History, ed. Stephen Blum, Philip V. Bohlman and Daniel M. Neuman, 161–80. Chicago: University of Illinois Press.

Thornton, Sarah. 1990. ‘Strategies for Reconstructing the Popular Past’. Popular Music 9/1: 87–95. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/S0261143000003755

Tosh, John. 1984. The Pursuit of History. London: Longman.Wade, Bonnie. 1979. Music in India: The Classical Traditions. Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-

Hall.Yogananda, Paramahansa. 1977 [1946]. Autobiography of a Yogi. Los Angeles: Self-Realization

Fellowship.

http://dx.doi.org/10.1558/pomh.1.1.19.56022

http://dx.doi.org/10.1558/pomh.1.1.19.56022

http://dx.doi.org/10.2307/834014

http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/S0261143000003755



DiscographyHarrison, George. 1968. ‘Inner Light’ (B-side); ‘Lady Madonna’ (A-side). Capital 2138.—1968. Wonderwall Music. Apple Records. B000009H0D—1970. All Things Must Pass. EMI, UK. B0018V6GXK.Shankar, Ravi. 1974. ‘I Am Missing You’. Shankar Family and Friends. Dark Horse Records,

UK.

FilmographyMassot, Joe. 1999. Wonderwall: The Movie. DVD. Dir. Joe Massot. London: Rhino Records.

Polyvocality and Forgotten Proverbs (and Persons): Ravi Shankar, George Harrison and Shambhu Das

Documents

Transcript of Polyvocality and Forgotten Proverbs (and Persons): Ravi Shankar, George Harrison and Shambhu Das