Sukoon review: Lull without the Storm | Entertainment News,The Indian Express

The issue with the tunes in Sanjay Leela Bhansali's Sukoon is not that they aren’t away from the familiar kind, they just aren't glorious – the ache isn’t painful enough and the pleasure feels superficial.

In the last few years, as the ghazal, which made it to the auditoriums after being in kothas and courts, vanished from the soundscape at the turn of the century, especially in cinema, filmmaker Sanjay Leela Bhansali attempted a sort of revival with some of his ‘ghazalnuma (ghazal-like)’ compositions. Be it the passionate Laal ishq (Goliyon ki raasleela), the twinge of the wound in Muskurahat (Gangubai Kathiawadi), the impishness of Jab sayiyaan (Gangubai Kathiawadi), the devotion of Aayat (Bajirao Mastani), and the fervour in Ek dil ek jaan (Padmaavat), Bhansali hit these and more out of the park. At a time when Indian cinema delivered repetitive, boring, and remixed music from the crop of current composers, Bhansali held his own to deliver much musical grandeur.

So the idea of a debut ghazal album from Bhansali is a thrilling prospect. Sukoon, the first non-film album by Bhansali, however, is unable to hold you the way his music has in the past. He has used some immaculate singers –Shreya Ghoshal, Ustad Rashid Khan, Pratibha Singh Baghel among others, who seem to stick to Bhansali’s brief and have sung well. But one just isn’t able to align with slightly frail and prosaic compositions that were created during the two years of Covid. All of them are just about nice and alright, even better than the music in the current soundscape, but they never really find the heart of the matter.

The album opens with Ghalib hona hai with elements of raag Tilang sung by Armaan Malik and sonically follows the format of using modern instruments like guitars along with tabla, the kind followed by Jagjit Singh once. While Tujhe bhi chaand by Shreya Ghoshal is a reminder of the 90s sweet pop, she sings the famed Wo jo humme tumme qarar by Momin Khan Momin and immortalised by Akhtar with a lot of dexterity. Even though set to a new tune with touches of Bhairavi, it’s sung like a dream, gently yet valiantly. But the issue here is that Akhtar’s piece has situated itself so stealthily in the crevices of the heart, that it’s hard to settle for another. But this composition does come close. Har ek baat is also Ghalib’s well-known piece popularised by Jagjit Singh-Chitra Singh through Gulzar’s show Ghalib. But Baghel touches it effortlessly and sings it brilliantly, with fantastic diction, all the nuqtas in place. This is by far the finest piece in the album. Papon delivers Dard pattharon ko with touches of raag Darbari Kanada, a fine one that stands out more than the pieces by Khan and Shail. The latter’s Siva tere has two versions on the album. Both do not leave much impact.

The musical side of Bhansali also remains one of his most unspoken and underrated aspects. To me, his music, fresh yet rooted, has mostly been better than his cinema, mainly because his cinema has tried to be rooted in history, his music has never tried the same. It has always been entrenched in Hindustani classical music and cinema of the 60s. As for Sukoon, it’s gentle, nice, melancholy music.

The issue with these tunes is not that they aren’t away from the familiar kind, they just aren’t glorious – the ache isn’t painful enough and the pleasure feels superficial. Nothing really enters your heart, the way Akhtar demanded of the ghazal or even the way Bhansali’s music has managed in the past. Is it because this one was created without the grandeur of the cinema Bhansali makes and is so used to? Or because there was no direct story or context? Hoping for some splendour in the next one.