Your work spans contemporary, Sufi and classical music. How do you navigate and blend these diverse musical traditions in your compositions?
Whilst it’s always been somewhat of a subconscious process, my starting point is to identify what connects disparate art forms rather than what differentiates them. For example, both Sufi and Western classical music are historically rooted in spiritual and religious experiences, sharing similar aims: to evoke a sense of spirituality and connect audiences with something transcendental and larger than themselves.
When writing, I try to hold onto that as my measuring stick. If the music still connects to audiences in that way, then I think it remains true to the essence of both art forms. As long as that is maintained, I think there are endless practical ways to merge these vastly different disciplines. Being surrounded by exceptional musicians from these traditions—such as Manchester Camerata, Abi, Janan and Krishna—is a huge reason these collaborations work. I can’t think of another place in the world other than the UK where such a high level of musicianship across different traditions, crammed into such a small geographical area. It’s wonderful!
Can you tell us about the process of creating the world’s first Urdu Symphonic Poem? What challenges and opportunities did this unique project present?
In 2022, I was commissioned to create an original work based around Sir Muhamad Iqba’s seminal poem, Shikwa. I felt a real responsibility to do it justice, given the poem’s significance to so many people. The length of the poem also posed a challenge; each verse is so important and so intricate in its imagery that it took a considerable amount of time to illustrate with the orchestra. A huge amount of credit has to go to
Abi who, despite not being a native Urdu speaker, overcame
the incredible challenge of singing and pronouncing complex Urdu poetry with finesse whilst delivering an emotional performance. I also have to thank Manchester Camerata for taking a gamble on me as a new composer at the time.
Given the size of the work, and my almost non-existent track record in classical music, they must have really believed in its importance to audiences. They’re one of the few pioneering ensembles of world-class calibre willing to take such risks. In doing that they provide so many artists with invaluable opportunities.
Your compositions have been praised by industry giants like AR Rahman and Nitin Sawhney. How have these endorsements influenced your artistic journey?
I have immense admiration for those composers; they are the trailblazers who paved the way for all of us. To be acknowledged by them in any way is a huge privilege and one that I am very grateful for.
As a composer for film and television, how does your approach differ when scoring for visual media compared to creating concert pieces?
When working with other mediums—whether TV, Film or Dance—the difference is that you’re guided by what’s on screen or on stage. In some ways, you’re creating an invisible character that, whilst not physically present, is nonetheless very influential. That character definitely has a script to follow just like everyone else. You’re there to help tell a story, and that comes first. Being inside that structure is simultaneously challenging and freeing!
I still feel like you must tell a story when you’re writing for concert halls, but there’s a far more open playing field, allowing us to set our own narratives. In some ways, it’s much more vulnerable place to be because the music is all there is, but that can also be a wonderful aspect!
Your recent work, Māyā, blends Western classical orchestra with Carnatic traditions. What inspired this fusion, and what were some of the most interesting discoveries during its creation?
Carnatic music is one of the world’s oldest classical art forms and is the root of all Indian classical music. The opportunity to explore that with an orchestra has been both wonderful and challenging. Its melodic and rhythmic content is incredibly complex and arguably less accessible than Sufi music. It took me a while to find my own place within it and to establish my connection to it, but that process has been incredibly rewarding. It has pushed me to grow as a musician, and I’m very grateful
for that.
With the success of the Orchestral Qawwali Project and your other works, how do you envision the future of cross-cultural musical collaborations?
My hope is that perspectives shift over time. What I love most about my work is that new audiences get to discover these art forms. At a recent concert with the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra (CBSO) at Birmingham Symphony Hall, over 80% of attendees had never been to an orchestral concert before, and the praise they gave the orchestra afterwards was incredible. I love that we’re creating an access point for these audiences to discover just how powerful orchestral music
can be.
This phenomenon happens in reverse as well. We recently performed in Brighton, where most of the audience had never heard Sufi music before, yet they really connected with it.
I sincerely hope that people can discover—just as I did—that music, when performed at its highest standard, can connect regardless of genre or its geographical origins. You don’t need to sit in an auditorium and feel like you’re being “cultured”; you can actually experience something on an emotional level.
As a composer who works across various genres and mediums, what advice would you give to emerging artists looking to create their own unique musical voice?
I don’t know if I’m qualified to be giving advice, but I can share what I’ve learned.
Being a full-time composer or creator is hard. There’s no getting around the amount of work required to create anything of substance, and that doesn’t even account for all of the extra administration, marketing and organisation that comes with it.
The most important thing you can do is find an art form, genre or musical idea that moves you on the simplest, least cerebral level possible. Concerns about whether your idea is “audience friendly”, “breaking boundaries”, or will make you “stand out” won’t keep you going at 4am in your fifth year of doing it. It has to move you. If you believe in it enough, eventually others will too.
Secondly, don’t be afraid if your work happens to resemble something else that exists. “Happens” is the key word here.
I’m not suggesting you actively imitate, but we all arrive at
our unique voices by subconsciously echoing idols. In my opinion, sounding different for its own sake is overrated. Ultimately, as long as your work moves you on a subconscious level, it will be original.
IAM was in conversation with London-based composer, singer, songwriter Rushil Ranjan.
His माया Māyā will be premiered by Manchester Camerata at Stoller Hall on 30 October and performed on 1 November at Firth Hall, Sheffield.
To discover more about his upcoming concerts, visit
rushil.co.uk
